


Odnoliub

by Bloogerstien



Series: Odnoliub [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:30:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5278538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloogerstien/pseuds/Bloogerstien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen and Guinevere Allen (Trevelyan) are bound almost by fate to meet. Cullen a solider, and Guinevere the fashion designer start a relationship in a Modern Thedas setting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Plane Ride

**Author's Note:**

> A spin off story of my A Most Unholy Inquisitor Story. With modern fun, and such. It will have some references to holidays not in the Thedas canon. The story will get more mature, and have possible triggers later. I will tag those to the best of my abilities.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @nothisis-ridiculous
> 
> Songs Notable:
> 
> Every Morning- Basshunter  
> https://youtu.be/52kIM7ENkpg

“Josie, Josie!” She tried to soothe the agent over the phone. “No, no it went fine. The audition was great!”

Josie buzzed excitedly from the other end.

“I'll be fine, I always am.”

Josie buzzed with worry this time.

Guinevere mostly ignored her pleas, soothing out a wrinkle marring her pink peplum style shirt. “A body guard for what? For some silly little show?”

The buzzing grew louder. Gwen resorted to holding the phone away from her face.

“You better not be holding your new phone away from your face!” Josie called loudly, drawing a few glances from the others awaiting in the airport lounge.

“Oh, Josie you know me too well.” Excusing herself from the lounge, her flight wouldn't start boarding for another half hour.

“There is a thing called fadetooth, it would make easier not to drop your phone.”

“But then you could shout in my ear, or worse I'd have to mute you. Guessing when you have stopped talking is hard work.”

“You brat!”

“Oh, Josi-” _Crack._

“Gwen?”

“Oh, no. Josie. I have to go.”

Guinevere looked down, surveying the camo-patterned bag that had snagged her heel. For the moment, it had no owner. Her red lips pouted, kicking the broken heel from her foot. The carpet of the airport floor felt far too dirty to tread in the thin nylon adorning her foot. The other one was kicked off in similar fashion.

“Ma'am.” Guinevere spun, as fingers lightly gripped to elbows. Ever so threateningly pointing the pick of the broken heel at the man behind her. He laughed, amber eyes squeezing shut in amusement. Releasing one of her soft elbows.

“That was my bag.”

“My shoe!” Gwen declared, but with a small smile.

“It seems we are both in the wrong.”

“Well one of us, yes.” She grinned, over looking the blonde haired man. Tall, fit, and dressed in a soldier's uniform.

“You shouldn't leave your bag unattended in the airport. Security issues, and the potential safety risks.”

“I will think of that next time. But will you be alright? I'm fairly certain walking around practically barefoot isn't sanitary.”

“You're too sweet. But I came prepared.” Handing him the pick from her heel, her hands dove into her grey and black patterned bag. Fishing out a pair of flats, matching the black pencil skirt she wore. Slipping them easily onto her feet.

“Another example of feminine ingenuity.” He remarked, impressed in general by the things a female bag could hold.

The woman offered out her hand. “Are you sure you want this back?” Waving the pick at her.

“I suppose not,” She sighed, “They were so comfy, too.” Pouting deliberately, eyes shining from behind the large round sunglasses she wore.

“I apologize ma'am.”

“Oh, hush. You.”

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

In her fashionable style, Guinevere was one of the last few on the plane. Having a ticket for first class, she wasn't worried about scurrying through the others for space in the overhead bin, she didn't particularly like shuffling through others and then having her knees knocked by each person that passed her seat.

_“Griffon Airlines welcomes you, flight 930 departing for Denerim.”_

A free aisle lead to her seat being easy to find, a familiar face awaiting her. “Well if it isn't you again!”

Flinching reflexively as the man jumped, having to study her a moment before he responded.

“Ahh, you.”

“Are there more of you?” Pointing at a spot on his uniform. It was customary to give up a first class seat to a service member.

“Not as far as I know. I would sit.”

“Is that an invitation Mr. Rutherford?” Reading the name printed on his uniform.

“Cullen works better, miss?” Cullen also offered his hand in a friendly gesture. Blushing softly after her bold words.

“Guinevere Allen. Though, Gwen is fine.” Taking his hand in a firm shake. “It's nice to meet you. Again.”

He stood, taking her bag. “Let me repay you, I'll put your bag up.”

“Such a gentleman.” Gwen cooed gently, allowing him to place her large back in the overhead bin.

After he slid back into his seat, she sat in her own. Things went silent, as both somewhat diligently listened to the safety presentation as the airplane was taxied down the runway. Guinevere had heard this spiel for what felt like the thousandth time, so she amused herself with shutting down her phone. Well, after sending out a last few important emails.

“Is that a Kokari 6?”

“Yeah, same as yours?” Cullen had taken after her action, but rather just turned the thing off.

“Yeah.” The man started chewing on the inside of his cheek. Before huffing as he bothered the woman beside him further, “What business do you have in Denerim?”

“Back home actually. I had an audition in Val Royeaux. How about you?”

“Home as well. For a while anyways. Are you an actor of some sort?” She looked thin, and beautiful enough to be one. Gwen was also dressed in what he could only assume was expensive clothing. But he wouldn't share that aloud.

“Oh no, I'm actually a fashion designer. I auditioned for one of those awful reality competition shows. To try and get my name out there.”

“I see. I hope it works out for you.”

“Where have you been stationed? If you don't mind.”

“Par Vollen, I've been there on a couple tours over the last few years. I'm finally seeing family after five years away.”

“Any kids, a wife?”

“No, and no. I do have a sister, brother, and another sister. My Older sister, and younger brother are married. They each have a kid.”

“They must be excited to see you!”

“Well, my oldest sister, Mia, her kid was born just after I left. My nephew barely knew me either.”

“Do you keep in contact with them often?”

“Not as often as I should. I neglected to tell Mia about a few of my station transfers.” Cullen said in a chuckle.

“That's awful! What if you had been hurt, or otherwise?” Only scolding him lightly. Cullen didn't answer, but rather went quiet. It was a sore subject, and she regretted pushing that far at all. Gwen adjusted the sunglasses on her face, finding something else to distract her.

“How about you? Your family?”

“I don't have any. I was a foster kid.” Answering perhaps too honestly, but without any hurt in the answer.

“Well aren't we awkward.”

“Indeed! But why don't we pass the time, and make it less awkward by playing a game.” Motioning toward the screens embedded in the seats before them. “We could play gaatlock sweeper, chess, tic tac toe, if you are of a mind.”

“Chess, sounds nice.”

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

A game, refreshments, and excruciating loss on Guinevere's side later the flight was coming to an end. Guinevere found herself glaring at the screen, she had never been good at chess. Despite Cullen's attempts to let her win, she had managed to find herself losing. Taking a bow, in partial force by the screen flashing checkmate, she retreated into her bubbling cherry coke. Letting the sounds of the plane around her act as a comforting agent to her superficially wounded pride.

In spat of turbulence the plane jarred, rocking slightly. The Soldier beside her extended his arm forward, effectively knocking the drink out of her hand. In a motion meant to protect her, had the incident been a crash it rather spilled the drink down her front. The woman jumped from her seat.

“Why did you! What did you!” Almost breaching the volume to be considered yelling.

The phone slipped from her lap, falling onto the floor. A flight attendant rushed to her side, asking promptly if anything was wrong. Guinevere sent the lady away, instead taking a moist towelette from her bag, and dabbing at the brown stain that trailed from the center of her breasts to the hem of her shirt. The soldier earned a few well earned glares as she dabbed at the pink shirt, fretting that the stain wouldn't come out.

“I'm really sorry.” He offered, quietly.

“No, no! It's fine.” The first couple of words came from her mouth were from behind clenched teeth.

“Uh, well, here is your phone.” Offering her the phone he thought he had collected from the floor.

“Sorry, as you can assume, I get a little upset by clothes.” She offered, trying to sound more sympathetic.

“No, that was a bad reflex to follow through.”

Gwen gave the man a smile, briefly touching his hand that had a good grip on the arm of his seat. “It seems we are not meant to co-exist peacefully.” She teased.

“Apparently not.” He agreed, but smiled at her teasing. Giving half a chuckle.

“You wouldn't happen to have a shirt in there as well?” Cullen forced himself to look away from her as she continued to dab at the keyhole cut of the pink shirt. How much he had already been looking, starring at that patch of skin had been lecherous.

“No, but that is a good idea. Or at least a stain removing stick!”

“That's certainly a positive outlook.”

“Do you want me to be angry, Mr Rutherford?” Mirth in her tone.

“Maker, no.”

The silence lapsed between them, furthered by the warning that the plane was close to touching down. Guinevere pretended to not notice the way the man clenched his jaw, and gripped tightly to his seat. Being the chatter box she was, she decided more talking was in order.

“Well, Cullen, I am glad I got to sit by you. This is perhaps the quickest plane ride I have experienced.” Almost feeling despondent, in what felt like hours, in the long moments he took to respond as the plane bounced against the runway.

“I'm glad to see that my oafish ways have not turned you completely against me.”

“You're far too handsome for that.” Gwen added cheekily, gathering her bag into her lap. Slipping the phone safely away.

The plane around them erupted into commotion, as everyone rushed to drag their bags from the overhead bins. Ignoring the pleas from the stewardess to wait for the plane to dock before they started to reach for their baggage. Following the crowd, Cullen graciously pulled her carry on from the overhead bin. Guinevere disappeared into the crowd with a wave as the passengers were allowed to leave the airplane.

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

_“There is one girl in my life_

_That makes me love again_

_As pretty as a girl could be_

_So beautiful”_

What an odd woman. Cullen swept across the phone. Studying the picture of the Tevinter man, with a styled mustache and the too pale blonde woman with an uneven haircut. Cullen didn't understand the trend behind the entire duck face competition the two were having. Competing for the most space on the wallpaper of her phone. His headphones had been plugged into the phone to drown out the noise of the airport around him as he waited for Mia to arrive. Most of the music was classical, or what he could only assume was techno. Well, in what little of her music that he could hear without the constant interruption of emails, and texts her phone received. Luckily he had Mia's number memorized.

_“Every morning I wake up_

_And I think of you with a smile on my face_

_I'm a man in love_

_And she's glorious.”_

 

This kind of music really wasn't his style, up beat, cheery, and electronic. But he kept listening to it. Tapping his fingers against the concrete to the beat. The phone buzzed again, interrupting the rack once again. It was a text from a series of numbers, his number.

> **|Guinevere|** Hey, you took my phone.
> 
> **|Guinevere|** I obviously have yours.
> 
> **|Guinevere|** I can drop yours off Friday, unless you need it earlier. My week is packed.
> 
> **|Cullen|** Friday is fine. The disaster continues.

Cullen chuckled, pushing from the concrete barrier at Mia's red Hart pulled to the curb.

“What has you smiling, brother?” Pulling Cullen into a tight hug.“I missed you!”

Branson popped the trunk, taking Cullen's large duffle bag.

“Mia said you called from a weird number. Why?' Branson pushed, grinning devilishly.

Cullen huffed, not even in the presence of his siblings for two minutes and they had started harping on him. “As I am sure Mia informed you, I accidentally took another's phone.”

“A girls! Branson!”

“Mia.”

“Oh, Cullen. Just tell me, if she cute?”

“Mia!” Pulling a blush from her younger brother, Branson giving him a thumbs up.

“Fine, let's get headed home.” Cullen ducked into the back seat, swiping his thumb across her phone.

> **|Guinevere|** Hush. Unless you just wanted to see me again! XD

Cullen tried to contain a smile, but the corner of his lips revealed the smile. “So, how was the flight? No issues?” Mia pried, brown eyes questioning through the rear view mirror.

“No, it was good.”


	2. Spaghetti Diner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guinevere is roped into dinner.

> **|Guinevere|** 'Sorry, I'll be a little late! I skipped lunch just to have another meeting pop up!'
> 
>  

Hours later.

 

> **|Guinevere|'** Make that pretty late. Seven still okay?'
> 
>  

Cullen looked at her phone again, slightly amused by the update. If spending three days with her phone had told him anything, it was that she was an extremely busy person. Meetings, calls, emails at all times. At the rate of turn over, Gwen was also up at all times of the night and morning responding to various emails.

 

Oddly enough, he had received a picture text from his phone that looked curiously like a butt.

 

Cullen was helping Mia in the kitchen, when Rufus started to bark at the complex's door. The Mabari bound excitedly at the scent of a new person coming to the door.

 

Mia was the first to the door, after raising her eyebrows knowingly in Cullen's direction. All it did was earn a rolling of his eyes.

 

“Guinevere welcome! Don't mind the dog, he won't bite.” Opening the door for the guest, “I'm Cullen's sister, Mia.”

 

“Oh this precious boy? I'm thrilled to meet him! You as well, Mia.”

 

Rufus barked, wagging his stubby little tail harder. Offering out his paw for Gwen to shake as Mia had let her in.

 

Guinevere was dressed in a sleeveless white shirt, ruffles cascading down the front. Pin stripped black dress pants, and white closed toe heels poked out from underneath the flared pants. Red hair left down, but curling at the edges. Cullen dropped the wooden spoon as the woman looked at him, the turquoise eyes were piercing. Studying him, but with a soft smile.

 

Her gliding steps brought her before him, offering out his phone.

 

“I did use it, if I went over on your plan...or anything let me know. I can make up the difference.”

 

Cullen nodded, taking the phone from his pocket and switching it with his own.

 

“Thank you. I should go now. Thank you for taking care of my phone.” Turning on her heel, Rufus stood in her way. Stubby tail wagging, demanding yet another pat from the young woman.

 

“Why don't you stay for dinner?” Mia interjected.

 

“I couldn't!”

 

“But Cullen said you hadn't eaten yet, you must be starving!”

 

Gwen blushed, putting the phone to her lips. “There's an awesome Antivan pla-”

 

“No, I insist! Eat a home cooked meal, spaghetti with my homemade sauce. Garlic bread. Make this trip worth your trouble.”

 

“I-I.”

 

“I suggest just accepting dinner. She won't let you go without.” Cullen said, returning to the bubbling sauce.   
  


Guinevere confided herself to playing with the Mabari. Attempting to stay out of the way. She was also pretty content to dive back into playing with her phone, rapidly sending back any messages she had not been able to respond to.

 

“Guinevere dear, could you bring the bread to the table?” Mia interrupted Gwen's contained thoughts.

 

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

 

She agreed, wisely slipping on oven mitts to bring the hot pan to the table.

 

“Are you the one that my mom was talking about?” Putting down a doll, the emotion behind her words was not quite readable.

 

“Probably.” Gwen answered carefully.

 

“We aren't having pizza because of you.” The young kid stated, “Mom said that we had to make other food.”

 

“Nat! That is enough from you young lady!” A tall, black haired man entered the dining room. Carrying a pile of plates and silverware.

 

“I really didn't mean to intrude, if you had other plans. I feel awful for being a bother.”

 

The man smiled, “Mia wouldn't of had it any other way. I'm Jonathan, I assume you are Guinevere?”

 

She nodded, Cullen and Mia filed in shortly after. Mia directing the show loudly from the tail end of the group. In a whirl everything was arranged on the table, and Guinevere was being beckoned to the table. The table had eight chairs, three running along each side, and one at each end. The family had piled to the other end of the table. Jonathan heading the table, Mia on his left and Natalie on the right. Cullen sat next to Natalie, and Mia had motioned for Guinevere to sit next to her.

 

Barely having a chance to slid into the padded chair, the table erupted around her. For so few plates it felt like a blur being passed around her. Sauce there, garlic bread, the spaghetti. Of course, everything was being passed around to her in the wrong order.

 

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

 

Cullen glanced across the table at this new acquaintance. Three different times now, fate had forced them together. Now she was here, carefully picking at the remaining food. Guinevere looked out of place, high priced clothing, perfect make up, coiffed hair without a strand seeming out of obedience. The back drop was a simple patterned, yellow wallpaper, and the decorations somewhat tacky compared to the woman surrounded by them. The messy meal of spaghetti even seemed beneath her, as he thought her plate lacked even a hint of green that he thought all her 'fancy' meals must accompany.

 

Her turquoise eyes snapped suddenly into reality, widening as Cullen caught himself staring. Gwen's cheeks colored red, unbeknownst to him her stomach had growled, her head ducking to lose his gaze. Cullen felt his own cheeks redden, as he glanced away. Focusing on his own plate.

 

“So, Guinevere, what do you do for a living?” Cullen heard Mia ask, between one of Guinevere's mouthfuls.

 

“I design clothing for Mary Tilligher. I actually just got a place on one of those awful reality contest shows.” Speaking as if it were some sort of dirty secret, he didn't know much about either of the things she had mentioned.

 

“Project Val Royeaux?” Mia asked excitedly.

 

“Yes, that one!”

 

“How exciting!”

 

The two blathered on, Jonathan shook his head. Placating himself with further eating.

 

Cullen was rather interested in the female speaking excitedly before him. His fork rested against his place for quite some while. Her eyes sparkled, and hair shimmered in every movement. Pearly teeth, and red lips moving in excited union. Finding himself chuckling inwardly at the exaggerated hand motions she used while speaking about her favorite coworker. A quirky model, who always had some kind of outlandish demand.

 

“Cullen, how long have you been in the military?” The question caused him to jump.

 

“Since I turned 18, so about eight years now.”

 

“And the number of times I have seen him since then I can count on my hand! My brother is terrible at writing, or even calling.”

 

“Mia, that's not-”

 

“Now, now Cullen. She doesn't need to hear us argue.”

 

Guinevere's giggling stopped both of them, her eyes widened as the table looked at her. She gulped, taking down her full fork of wound spaghetti. Glancing between the four with a deepening blush.

 

“Sorry, it was funny.” Barely able to choke out the words.

 

Mia grinned, focusing her questions back on Gwen, “So, what is your family like?”

 

“I don't have any. Or any I remember, I was in a foster home for most of my life.”

 

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked.” Mia had managed to be knocked down. Mia looked at Cullen with a slight scowl, he had forgotten to mention that.

 

Guinevere reached to touch Mia's shoulder in comfort, smile not skipping a beat. “No, it's alright.”

 

The meal progressed in silence, but not as awkward as he had expected it to turn. The woman ate before him without a drop of sauce finding its way to her shirt. Something, he had been failing at. Natalie, still only five years old, ate sloppily cheeks and hands turning redder with every slurp of spaghetti. Mia twittered at the kid to no avail, usually bringing a small grin to Guinevere's face.

 

Cullen was quite pleased with this view, watching her so delicately eat. The soft drawing of breath, and flickering of her smooth features. The forming blush whenever she caught him staring, the corners of her mouth creasing in a somewhat guilty smile.

 

He was a bit sad to see the meal end. Guinevere helped bustle her own plate into the kitchen, along with the empty pan of garlic bread remains. Cullen was slower to get up and move, finding it easier to finish his last few bites without the distraction before him. He heard the faint sounds of talking coming from the kitchen, he decided to listen.

 

“Oh, I should thank you for keeping Cullen entertained on the plane ride.”

 

“Why's that?” Guinevere questioned.

 

“He never liked planes to begin with, but ever since his plane went down he's usually quite shaken.”

 

“I didn't notice.”

 

“I would be distracted if I was sitting next to pretty face, where I him.”

 

“Or I distracted him with my endless chattering.” Cullen felt his neck heat, surely Guinevere was feeling the same thing.

 

“Take it however you like.” Mia said dismissively.

 

“But thank you for dinner, it was delicious.” Changing the subject to ensure the topic didn't progress further.

 

“It was my pleasure. It's not often we have guests.”

 

Cullen rounded the corner, giving Mia a questioning glance. One that was also half a glare.

 

“I should probably get going, I have an early morning and some work to finish before I can head to bed.” Looking at the phone she had ignored during the course of dinner, slight dismay betrayed the number of people demanding her attention. “I hate to dash.”

 

“We've kept you long enough, and I got dinner out of you.” Mia said with a smile, looking to Cullen. “Hopefully we can see more of you?”

 

Wisely, Guinevere had already began to slip out of the door. Leaving with a last thank you.

 

“She's a handful.”

 

Cullen ignored the comment.

 

“Why are you telling a stranger my problems?” Voice barely hiding the annoyance he felt.

 

“You wouldn't have thanked her.” Mia added simply.

 

“And it matters because?”

 

“You like her.”

 

“Mia, she would not be interested in my type.”

 

“But she is your type?”

 

“Mia, this is not- No.”

 

“Whatever, brother.”

 

With a huff Cullen peeled out of the room, finding himself buried into his temporary space.

>  
> 
> **|Cullen|** I hope we weren't too much for you.

 

He cursed himself for even sending the message. Cursing further as he could not bring himself to delete the selfie of Guinevere, and her blonde friend. This was ridiculous. A long half hour later his phone lit up.

>  
> 
> **|Guinevere|** No, it was nice to have home cooked meal, with good company!
> 
>  
> 
> **|Guinevere|** I should apologize for the meal turning into a big ordeal.

 


	3. Blind Dates and Cheese!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair forces Cullen on a blind group date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics Amelia sings, are the actual Zulu language lyrics to the opening of the Lion sing. 
> 
> I figured to try and be correct.
> 
> And the dress Guinevere is wearing, because I butchered the description!
> 
> http://tinyurl.com/hd57zys

“Sera! I can't do this! I have work, a million emails to answer, things to pack for Proj-”  
  
Guinevere was meet by Sera's dead stare. The pale girl was curled up in the corner of the couch, large grey knitted hat hiding the blonde hair underneath. The purposely tattered clothes looked out of place when against the pristine white background of the couch. The black pants, and large band shirt wanted to just bleed across the clean couch. If not for bright rainbow socks, Sera might have just been one large stain on the couch.  
  
“You need to friggin' calm down, yea?” Brown eyes finally left her phone, “You need a man to be under.”  
  
“Sera!”  
  
“What, you've been a cranky ladybits lately. 'Cuz your ladybits aren't being played with.”  
  
“So a blind date will fix that?”  
  
“Phhbt. Maybe.”  
  
Gwen gave a short growl, soothing down one side of the black dress.  
  
“That dress make you look like a prissy pants. Change.”  
  
“What do I wear then, Sera?”  
  
“Something that doesn't scream 'Ah, my head is up my ass!'”  
  
The red head just gave Sera a deep frown.  
  
“Well how about that pinky-blue one you brought home last week?”  
  
\--- --- --- --- --- ---  
  
“Cullen, but Cuuullllleeen.”  
  
“Alistair, no, this is ridiculous.”  
  
“Cullen, please,  I need someone else with me.”  
  
“Why can't you be brave enough to do this alone?”  
  
“But it's a group blind date!”  
  
“How is it a blind date if you already know who you are going on a date with?” Cullen spun back on Alistair, hardly believing he had let his old friend drag him into clothes shopping, for a date he wasn't sure he was going on.  
  
“I can't just ask Amelia out, she's perfect, _amazing_....and so pretty. If I am set up with her, she can't say no.” Alistair did half a twirl as he clutched a shirt tightly to himself. “Plus, I'd look so easy going and cool next to your...grumpiness.”  
  
Cullen huffed, folding his arm. “I don't need to be dating.”  
  
“Oh, still so in love with the girl you can't text back?” Making kissy faces at his blonde friend.  
  
“It's not like tha-”  
  
“Then you have nothing to lose, and I have everything to maybe gain. Come on, Cullen,” Alistair begged, pushing out his lower lip, “You owe me for forgetting about me, or trying to. Just one little blind date?”  
  
“Who is setting this up again?”  
  
“Leliana, she has a friend that knows this girl who also never gets out.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Leliana says she is pretty.” Alistair smiled, bashing his eyebrows pleadingly at Cullen.  
  
“Ugh, fine.”  
  
“Now, we need to find something for you. So, I can stand being seen in public with you.”  
  
\--- --- --- --- --- ---  
  
The bar set for the date was next to a big park, with a walking trail. The face of the building was almost entirely made of glass, with a few neon lights blinking popular brands of beer. The inside was dimly lit, with chairs, table, and the bar made of a rich mahogany. Alistair and Cullen had already arrived, taking a seat in the middle of the room, leaving the two chair across from them empty.  
  
Alistair fretted, pulling his white button up shirt down one again. Cullen next to him in a soft pink, Alistair's choice, was more relaxed the sleeves rolled up his elbows.  A light spritzing of cologne, unlike Alistair besides him who had enough on him to choke a horse.  
  
“What if Amelia gets mad? What if she knows?” Tapping his fingers irritatingly against the lacquered table. “What if she doesn't show up, and your date does?”  
  
“Maybe you'll just have to impress my date for me!” Cullen snapped back.  
  
“With that grumpy attitude, yes I will!” Only growing triumphant in Cullen's growing annoyance.  
  
“Amelia?” Alistair suddenly called out.  
  
“Alistair!” A blonde woman, with tanned skin called back to his now giddy ginger friend. Amelia jaunted to the table, all too easily sliding into the open seat across from Alistair. She looked pleased, and hardly surprised. Perhaps both of them had a part in this date. “Leliana, said I would know who my date was by looking at him!”  
  
Alistair blushed brightly. “Yeah, she totally told me that too!”  
  
Cullen didn't think the lie was very convincing.  For either party.  
  
“Well, Amelia. This is my friend Cullen Rutherford. Cullen this is Amelia Cousland.” Alistair introducing the two, thought hardly took his eyes from his date.  
  
Cullen studied Amelia for a moment, strong arms and shoulders show cased by the blue and white sundress. But when would his date show? It would almost be easier if she didn't, make it less awkward. He could probably duck his way out of the date, and leave the two alone.  
  
“Where is his date?” Amelia asked.  
  
“I don't even know what she is supposed to look like, do you?”  
  
“Lel said she had red hair, about five-six. Skinny. Fancy clothes.”  
  
Cullen sputtered into his drink.  
  
“Cullen?”  
  
His eyes focused forward, amber eyes locked on his target. There she stood. In a loosely form fitting dress. It was mostly pink, almost matching his shirt. Dark blue cap sleeves, with the rest of the chest in pink save for a black zipper line. The short crop top was modestly lined with a high waist skirt, on the left side two strips of light blue angled outwards, with a triangle of pink underneath. To the right, was a dark blue strip of fabric, following the lines of the slight blue strips on the left side the dark blue dipped under the light blue. Red hair pulled into a low and curled pony tail. Blue-green eyes demurely looked his way.  
  
His knee knocked against the table as he stood, sending the liquid in both drinks to spill onto the table. The racket of his chair drew the turquoise eyes to look at him, startled.  The lady gulped, hand moving to scratch at her neck nervously.  
  
“Guinevere?” Cullen questioned, not realizing how intense his gaze might have appeared.  
  
“Leliana sooo knew.” Amelia laughed, breaking the tension of the moment. The three turned to look at her.  
  
“Is she _that_ girl?” Alistair asked loudly, tactlessly.  
  
“Shut up, Theirin.” Cullen growled. Taking his leave of the table.  
  
Long strides took him to the temporarily paralyzed, and blushing female.  
  
“I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to startle you.” Softening his voice.  
  
“No, I just didn't think this is what Josie meant by I would know you when I got there.”  
  
“Right. Bad surprise,” Cullen quickly interrupted a despondent 'oh', by offering his hand to her.  
  
Guinevere gave him a short grin, lightly taking his hand. In a show of chivalry Cullen slid out the chair for Guinevere, before returning to his own. But it didn't last as she excused herself to the bathroom, murmuring something about along trip.  
  
“That was harsh man.”  
  
“A bad surprise? No wonder she was upset!” Amelia chided in beside Alistair.  
  
“She's upset?” Cullen honestly questioned.  
  
“Men.” Amelia breathed.  
  
They were interrupted by a server, asking about their orders. Amelia for the moment, asked for a drink. A few quiet moments passed as the server returned with two drinks, a light orange one with a peach pressed half way through the glass, and another one of white wine for Amelia.  
  
Guinevere returned, looking calmer. Sliding into her chair, “Sorry about that, very long cab ride. Traffic is awful, and I see they got my drink!”  
  
Playfully pushing aside any awkwardness. “I'm Guinevere or Gwen Allen, who might you be?”  
  
Alistair and Amelia introduced themselves, and the four ordered their meals.  
  
“So you and Cullen met on a plane a few weeks ago?” Alistair asked of Gwen.  
  
“Yes, weird coincidence that he also happened to switch our phones!”  
  
He asked a few more prying questions, as Guinevere then changed the subject.  
  
“So you two obviously know each other, how did that happen?”  
  
Amelia was the first to answer, clearly less bashful than Alistair. “He goes to the bank I work for, we have a mutual acquaintance in Leliana. Who set this up.” The last sentence an obvious over clarification.  
  
“I've known Cullen since grade school, though he is grade younger than me.” Alistair continued on with a grin, “though he looks much older than me!”  
  
Cullen gave Alistair a soft huff.  
  
“I believe Leliana mentioned her friend Josephine, knowing you.” Amelia reverting the conversation to something that would not start an argument between Alistair and Cullen.  
  
“Yes! Josephine, Josie is my agent. Small world.”  
  
Amelia drove the conversation with Gwen, almost ignoring the two boys. Alistair was happy to contently day dream about the woman sitting before him, Cullen just let his mind fester. Trying to come up with an apology, or even thinking if it was warranted.  
  
Eventually Guinevere went silent, as Alistair had found his way into the conversation. She hardly looked at Cullen, arriving easily at the conclusion he didn't have much interest for her. He hadn't texted back, and didn't seem pleased with her arriving. Josie had pried to far, and tried to force something that just wasn't going to happen. Cullen hated his inability to say anything, judging by her unwillingness to even look his way.... he now knew he had upset the woman.  
  
Three drinks down on her end, he was extra sure of her state of mind.  
  
“We should walk around the park!” Amelia announced. “It has lots of strange abstract art to look at, and the weather will soon be too cold to enjoy it.”  
  
“Is this the park with the weird apple on a spoon?” Guinevere asked.  
  
“It is! And it has a giant cheese statue.” Alistair added in, looking to Cullen with a pleadingly, he was the one with the keys.  
  
“Sure.”  
  
The checks had been delivered, but divided between the couples. Alistair paid for Amelia's, and his own meal. Guinevere grabbed the check before Cullen could even look at the amount. Pulling a golden card from her purse, the server had taken the check.  
  
“Gwen, Guinevere,” Finding he didn't like the short version, “I should have-”  
  
“No, no. I was expensive. Besides, I owe you dinner this time.” Words only slightly slurred. Giving him a wink.  
  
Alistair gave a short laugh, and Amelia giggled.  
  
At Amelia's rushing they headed from the bar, the blonde pulled Alistair into a path on the right being familiar with the park. Alistair seemed to be overly interested in every word Amelia was sprouting about the artwork in the park, he seemed to have the energy to keep up with the high strung banker. Cullen was next in line, trying much harder than the lagging Guinevere to keep up.  
  
Cullen and Guinevere were hardly surprised to learn that Amelia was pursuing a degree in physical training.  
  
Much to Alistair's excitement they came upon the giant triangular statue of cheese. He rushed from his date to peer up the statue that broke over the tree-line. His hands rested on his hips.  
  
“I could eat that much cheese, just give me a week.”  
  
“Then lock him away, once is forced to take a laxative.”  
  
“Heeeeeeyyy. Culleen.” The ginger pouted, loudly changing the subject. “I wonder what it would be like to stand on that much cheese, and be king over it.”  
  
“You could stand on it.” Amelia suggested devilishly.  
  
“That's bad. Illegal things are bad.”  
  
“Pssh, Alistair.” Amelia propelled herself over the short roped fence, and onto the statue.  
  
Alistair worried after her, but dared not place a hand on the yellow metal. “Amelia, what if someone sees you!”  
  
“Nobody ever patrols this way! I shall be the cheese queen!”  
  
Cullen folded his arms, not sure if he should be amused or upset that this was happening. The soldier decided on upset as Guinevere rushed passed him, launching herself somewhat clumsily onto the structure. White flats left haphazardly into the gravel surrounding the giant wedge of cheese.  
  
Amelia had already made it skillfully atop the statue, a foot resting victoriously atop the wedge the knee brought up as if she was a conquering pirate. The blonde female looked down at the climbing Guinevere, a sudden idea popping into in her mind. With a few, almost too practiced steps down the pitted yellow surface she helped Guinevere reach the near top of the structure. The red head laughing, beside her. Offering her bag to the blonde in a sundress. Who from Alistair's view was offering quite an immodest and scandalous show. To which the ginger had noticed, and turned a bright red.  
  
“ _Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba!_ ” Holding out the bag before her, as if it was a smallish furry cat like animal.  
  
“Sithi uhm ingonyama.” Amelia rang out again, drawing a harder fit of laughter from Guinevere. Alistair was holding his sides together, facing the floor as he tried to draw in breath from laughing too hard.  
  
“ _I don't know the rest of the song! Baba!_ ” Keeping in perfect tune.  
  
Cullen tried to fight a smile and lost that battle. But he refused to laugh. Finding himself worrying as the red head sat, cautiously testing her legs out before her. Carefully trying to pick her way back down.  Amelia roared atop the cheese, quite content to make faces at Alistair. Losing tack of what Gwen was doing, as she challenged the man.  
  
In those moments, Guinevere started to slip. Socks slipping against the smooth metal surface of the structure. It was at most twenty feet high, but a fall from there could mean something breaking. The red head let out short, but still amused yelp. The soldier rushed, and barreled over the rope fence. Catching the female as she toppled over the edge, with a sharp grunt.  
  
Turquoise eyes blinked at him, quite unaware of the danger. Amelia and Alistair had stopped laughing, and both came to Cullen's side. Amelia had expertly made it off the structure with no fuss.  Guinevere giggled, drawing forth Cullen's ire.  
  
“What's wrong with you? Being so reckless? Both of you!?! Either of you could have gotten hurt.” His face scrunching in anger.  
  
Guinevere struggled, forcing herself from his arms. Eyes wide, and face setting into a frown.  
  
“What's it matter to you?” She asked, her tone filled with more mirth than the words implied.  
  
“Me? You climbed up that thing.”  
  
“Pshh, I've done worse. It wouldn't have been the first time I broke something.” Sticking out her tongue at the blonde man as she slid into her flats.  
  
Amelia intervened. Placing herself between them.  
  
“Sorry, Cullen. That was all my fault. I was trying to impress Alistair,” Blindly grabbing Alistair's arm, “probably too much.”  
  
Cullen's gaze settled on Amelia, and with a snort he turned away.  
  
With a soft smile, Amelia slid her fingers between Alistair's larger and wider fingers. “I'll get us out of here.”  
  
Amelia, with Alistair in hand bee-lined for the exit. Guinevere immediately followed after them, leaving Cullen to trail.  
  
With another huff Cullen found himself battling internally again. For all it was warranted, he should not have raised his voice at Guinevere, his date, like that. Watching her slumping shoulders only made him feel worse. With a shake of his head, and inhale for bravery he clipped toward her.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
“Hey.” Guinevere answered quietly, amusing herself in her phone.  
  
“Look,” Placing his entire body in front of her, “I didn't mean that it was a bad surprise, earlier. I just meant that it was a surprise. I don't mind, I mean I did-do like seeing you.”  
  
Her eyes seemed to finally grace him with their attention. A corner of her lip pulling up in a smile. His hands found her shoulders, gripping them softly.  
  
“I didn't mean to yell, either. I haven't been that fun of a date, and you were just trying to have some fun. I don't do this, and that is unfair.”  
  
“I shouldn't have been reckless. Though. I'm sorry about that.” Managing to fully grin at Cullen.  
  
“Does this make us even?”  
  
“Even.”  
  
Cullen released Guinevere, falling beside her in stride. Trying to match her easy pace.  
  
“I'm glad this turned out for them.”  
  
“You knew?”  
  
“Josie couldn't stop talking about it whenever it came up. That's how she guilted me into this.”  
  
Cullen chuckled softly, “Alistair won't stop talking about this for weeks.”  
  
“Hmm, but they're cute together. Look at how feminine Amelia is acting, leaning her head against his shoulder. It's adorable.”  
  
Cullen shook his head, not quite seeing how it was adorable. Perhaps it was a female thing, or perhaps he was jealous. Though they had come to a truce, he felt as though he should do more for her. This wasn't much of a date, and she had deserved at least that much.  
  
“How is your family?”  
  
 “Fine, Guinevere. Look.” He started struggling at his words.  
  
“What is it?” This time Guinevere stopped Cullen, looking concerned.  
  
“I, we, shouldn't keep meeting like this. I, we, should.”  
  
Guinevere interrupted his stuttering attempts, “See each other more?” Pleading hopefully.  
  
“Yes, well. It might stop us from running into each other in destructive ways.” He added, trying to lighten the mood.  
  
The red head smiled widely. Stalking toward Cullen bravely, pushing herself up to her tip toes.  
  
“What are yo-”  
  
Her lips pressed softly against his cheek.  
  
“Mmm, you smell good.” 


	4. The Game (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair invites the gang to a game.
> 
> Cullen and Guinevere learn more about one another.

> **|Cullen|** What are you doing this coming Friday?
> 
>  
> 
> **|Guinevere|** Nothing important. Why?
> 
>  
> 
> **|Cullen|** Alistair has some big game Friday night, he would like you to come. Amelia, and some of our other friends will also be there.
> 
>  
> 
> **|Guinevere|** Sounds fun!
> 
>  
> 
> **|Guinevere|** Can I bring some of my friends along?
> 
>  
> 
> **|Cullen|** Alistair says the more the merrier.
> 
>  
> 
> **|Cullen|** I hope u wear something pretty.
> 
>  
> 
> **|Cullen|** Pretty lady~ ;)
> 
>  
> 
> **|Guinevere|** Lol?
> 
>  
> 
> **|Cullen|** Sorry, Alistair thinks he is funny. What he should have meant is wear something that you wouldn't mind getting dirty.
> 
>  
> 
> **|Guinevere|** Will do.

 

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

 

Game day had finally arrived. The season had fully developed into fall weather, prompting much cooler, and wetter weather. Cullen found himself excited to see Guinevere again, they had kept up with one another better over text, but had not found the time to actually see each other again. Guinevere was busy with her show, and Cullen with a new part time job.

Alistair and Amelia had a few more alone dates under their belts, and they were progressing well. Though, sharing a kiss had yet to happen, but Gwen knew it would only take a little more time. According to Amelia's prediction, who had been the one mostly spear heading the developments in the relationship.

Guinevere waited on the street corner, pulling down first the green tank top, and finally the maroon wide necked sweatshirt she wore over it. The arms had been mended to not look baggy, so that she felt more presentable. In jeans, and knee high boots she felt less dressed than usual. Leaving her hair down also felt super casual. She searched for the window of her apartment again, glad to note that at least now the light had been shut off. Meaning Dorian and Sera could not be far.

The two argued, taking bets on what Cullen actually looked like.

Guinevere dismissed most of their bickering. Letting them figure out Cullen for themselves. She had gently assured them that nothing was happening.

They were there to support Alistair.

The cab ride had continued much as her apartment adventures had, with Sera and Dorian fighting over something relating to Guinevere. They were ignored, as she sent out a few messages and emails that would allow her the next few hours in relative peace. The first episode of Project Val Royeaux was airing that night, everyone was trying to contact her.

Guinevere took point, picking a path that seemed the least muddy. She paid for three tickets at the gate, and began to overlook the crowd. She was found first by Amelia, who pulled the group to benches in the third row, in the right corner.

Dorian, soon followed by Sera pushed passed Guinevere. Drawing a curious look from Amelia.

“This is going to be great.” Guinevere muttered softly.

Dorian strode to the closest blonde man he could find, though very close to being Cullen, he was not Cullen but Branson.

Dorian squared off with a confused Branson. Dorian looked him over, pulling a very serious expression.

“ 'Scue me?” Branson asked.

“ ''Scue you?' Why are you wearing a wedding band and talking to my Gwen like that?” Dorian raised one eyebrow. “Are you some kind of mischievous tramp?”

“I'm married, yes. But not to Guinevere, you have the wrong love stricken brother.”

Cullen appeared, almost as if summoned behind Guinevere. A bowl of popcorn, and other treats in his arms. “Did I miss something?”

Dorian turned, with no shame. This time catching the correctly Rutherford brother, though standing just mere inches below him. Dorian practiced the same drill, looking over another very confused Rutherford. The Tevinter man huffed, finding nothing outwardly dishonorable to criticize.

“You're pretty enough, but your fashion sense is lacking.” Dorian retorted, storming from the man to offer apologies to Branson.

“Who was that, Guinevere?” Cullen asked.

“Dorian. He'll get never get over himself, but he'll come to tolerate you quickly enough.”

“Charming.”

“Who are all these people?”

He pointed to each person as he named them, “That is Cassandra, she's speaking with Leliana. Branson is my younger brother, Morrigan is someone I just met myself. Not the most friendly person, but one of Amelia's friends.”

“Sera is over there, talking to some man I don't know. And...wow, is that Josie?” Pointing to the people she brought along in turn. Josie slipped passed her to Leliana, greeting her with a hug.

The announcer came over the intercom, urging everyone to find their seats. The game would start shortly.

Sera, with her breaded friend filed into the seats closest to the end. Guinevere followed after Sera, learning that the man beside Sera was Blackwall or Thom. After some shoving Gwen didn't notice, Cullen was pushed into sitting next to her. Cassandra, Leliana, Dorian, and Josie sat down next in that order. Amelia, Morrigan, and Branson sat in the row behind them. Branson sliding his hand into the popcorn Cullen had procured. Cullen swatted his brother away after the third handfull.

“If you want any, feel free to dig in.” Offering the large bucket toward her.

“Sure, she can, but not me. Your brother!” Branson whined from behind.

Guinevere waved the bucket away. “Thank you for offering, but I hate getting the kernels in my teeth.”

“Have it your way.”

Guinevere chuckled, and turned to the game as the whistle screeched. Searching over the players to find Alistair. The man quickly became busy getting himself pummeled into the mud. She found her hand reaching into the popcorn, Cullen pretended not to notice. Sera shuffled around beside her, breaking away from the game. Josie noticing an empty spot slipped in beside Gwen, dipping her head to Blackwall as she did so.

“Are you excited?” Josie tried to contain her voice to a whisper, “It's airing now!”

“Yes, Josie, but the game.” Gwen wanted to focus on other things, other people.

Josephine tried focusing on the game, doing do wound her up. Josie felt the energy of the crowd and unlike her usual demeanor, it made her want to scream and cheer. Loudly. The Antivan was trying to avoid that out of saving face.

“It seems like our date idea worked out for you two.”

Cullen looked at Josephine curiously, raising one eyebrow in her direction.

“Friends, Josie.” Guinevere chided.

Josephine decided to drop the comment, as the noise of the crowd swelled. The players scurried around close to the goal line. Alistair suddenly had the ball in band, pivoted left, right as an attacker failed to pull him down by the knees. Ever so proudly Alistair touched the ball to the ground in the center of the goal line.

“Touchdown!” Josie screamed. Launching her body from the bleacher, arms lifting into a cheer as she propelled upwards. Her finertips graced the lip of Blackwall's drink, sending the coffee not just all over Blackwall. But Morrigan behind him.

“M'Lady, I believe you have the wrong sport.” Blackwall muttered simply. “It's called a try.”

Glancing down at his plaid shirt with little disdain. Josie, covered her mouth, immediately moving to soothe the man. Gwen offering a stain stick from her bag, winking at Cullen who was watching his unfold. Josie was quickly pulling Thom with her to retrieve another coffee.

Guinevere glanced at the darkening sky, shivering in the threat of rain. Cullen nudged her.

“Are you cold?”

“No,” but she was lying, “I'm alright.”

Cullen shrugged beside her, thrusting the popcorn pail in her direction. It was waived away, for the second time. But what seemed only moments later, a curious and hungry hand had found its way around a few kernels. Gwen was trying to be sly, pretending to focus solely on the match. Cullen cleared his throat, a kernel of popcorn that had made it to Guinevere's mouth slipped away.

“What happened to kernels in your teeth?” Cullen asked with a soft smirk.

Gwen blushed, head turned to hide her blush. Slowly her head pivoted, a guilty smile on her features. Blinking up at the man, bashfully.

“Hush.” Prodding out her tongue in Cullen's direction.

The man chuckled, placing the bucket in between her legs. As she started to refuse, by shoving the bucket back in his direction his larger and stronger hands covered her delicate hands, guiding them to holding the bucket between her legs.

“Skipped lunch again?”

With a huff, Cullen got his answer.

“You're also cold.”

“No, you don't Mr. Rutherford! Or you will be cold too!” Nagging him at even the mention.

“Let me, I owe you.”

“We said, even. Even is even.”

“Well, then you can just owe me!” He retorted, slipping the faded leather jacket from his back.

With another soft huff, Gwen accepted the kind gesture slipping one arm into the jacket. Bumping Cullen's shoulder, in lack of a fiery retort. In the end, she was glad to have the jacket. As the first few drops of rain splattered against the faded leather.

“Cullen?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want coffee? How do you like it?”

“You don't-”

“Well, too bad.”

“Cream, and three lumps of sugar.”

Guinevere grinned, “I'll be right back.”

The coffee stand at the game was nothing to be proud of. It did little more than serve as a self service station with a few extra flavors added into the mix. It was cheap, but perfect for a cold night. That was when the first boom of thunder echoed across the field, dropping the stir stick into the scalding liquid. Another one slapped across the sky as she picked her way to the bleachers, forcing her pace to quicken.

But the seat next to hers was empty.

Branson spoke, “He'll be back in a bit.”

Guinevere nodded, and waited. But in a bit turned into quite a while.

“Where is he?” Meekly asking Branson.

“He might be a while, he's.” Branson cleared his throat, “just getting away for a bit.”

“Where?”

“I don't know!”

“I can find him.”

“No!” Branson shot back.

“Why not?” She asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

“No real reason.” Branson admitted, between his fingers.

With a confused looked, Guinevere took off from the stands. Carefully balancing covered cups of coffee in both hands. The stands were filled, and she didn't assume he was there. So she headed from the field, and out the gates to a larger grassy field. That was empty as well.

With a huff, the soaked female headed for the only other structure on the lot. A shed. Gwen rounded the corner, noticing that it was empty, of all but a dark figure standing inside.

“Cullen?”

“Oh, Guinevere?” The figure obviously startled with a jump.

“Are you okay?” Pushing out the coffee up as a peace offering.

“Yeah, as much as one in my condition can be.” His tone biting.

“Your condition?”

Cullen pivoted, nose curling. “Are you joking?” Swiping the offered coffee, with undue aggression.

“If I knew what I was joking about, be assured. You would know.” Tone flat, narrowing her eyes in his direction. Not quite understanding what brought about his bought of aggression. Pivoting in her own manner. Stumbling in the step down from the shed, another roll of thunder striking above them.

“Guinevere- wait!” Finger brushing, and gripping against the elbow of his jacket. Earning him a blank stare from the female, one he could only feel.

“Branson or Mia, must not have told you. When, when I was stationed in Par Vollen my plane went down and-” Cullen paused, pursuing his lips in the struggle to speak, explain himself. “Look, I'm not in a good place, or even state of mind. I'm not this person.”

“Do you need me to leave you alone?”

“I, yes.” Shaking his head, and turning in guilt. “No, I mean. If you don't mind, the therapist said talking helps.”

With a nod, she retreated into the shed. Glad to be free of the rain. “What do you want to talk about?”

Cullen lifted his arms, “I don't know.”

Guinevere slid to the floor, legs placed out before her. “Is there anything else, to help?” Resting her back against the shed. Taking a testing sip of her drink.

He mostly paced, few steps needed to reach either end of the shed. Find nothing but lengthening minutes of silence, her knees pulled into her chest. Fishing the phone from her bag, deciding to submit to the barrage of messages. Cullen slipped in beside her, trying to not read her personal messages.

“Do you have any tunes, that isn't that weird upbeaty, techno stuff?”

Guinevere gave a sideways look, snorting. “Someone went deep into my phone.”

“Someone has an odd taste in music.”

“According to you!”

“Or normal people!”

“How rude, Mr. Rutherford!” She announced in mock hurt, thumb shifting through her playlist. The first decent song she found was Moonlight Sonata. “Unless now, I will be mocked for my taste in classical music.”

“No, not for that.” He finished with a smirk.

They fell silent once again, listening to the rain pattering against the shed and soft music playing over the phone. Cullen's breathing returned to a normal, and easy pace. Head starting to tilt fully back against the wall. Guinevere grew more certain the man had fallen asleep, and pulled her knees in tighter. Resting her chin against the flat of her knee. With almost every bolt of thunder the man beside her stirred, with every bolt Guinevere's insides quivered.

Most knew little about their own childhoods, but she knew much less. Little memories played, a fleeting feeling at the sound of a musical jewelry box. The stench of the cigarettes made her recoil in unfounded terror. Thunder was another one of those memories, beckoning her forward but it always lost grip before she could understand, or see even a piece of the puzzle. Being a healthy child, she was curious about the locked doors, and lips of those around her.

All she could ever manage to find were further barriers. Eventually being told, that it was better to not remember. That she was _lucky_ to not have those memories, to not have faces to put to her parents. Was it lucky to be lost? Unsure. To be constantly wondering where the scarred circles of flesh upon her hip had originated.

Thunder ripped loudly across the sky again, drawing Guinevere tightly back into her ball. Heavy and warm, an arm draped across her shoulders. Pulling her tight, and flush against the rest of the warm body. Prickly stubble pressing atop her skull. They didn't need to speak, just being close was enough.


	5. The Game (Part Two)

“Where is Cullen? And Guinevere? Are they caboodling?” Alistair announced loudly, standing proud in his glute hugging shorts.  
  
Cullen gave his friend a short glare, Guinevere was silent. Bowing her face to hide the blushing of her face  
  
Amelia completely changed the subject by bounding into Alistair's arms. Unfussed by the mud covered state of his clothing.  
  
“You won!” She claimed excitedly.  
  
“I did! And with only minimal to severe bruising!” Alistair teased. Ears turning red easily under all of the muck.  
  
Amelia grabbed a red ear, guiding the taller man into stooping over. In a grandiose measure, Amelia pressed her lips firmly against Alistair's a foot extending upwards to gain a higher position of purchase. Alistair took the blonde into his arms, twirling her as they kissed. Some twittered quietly while Morrigan made a disgusted noise.  
  
Their kiss finally broke, “Party at my place!” Alistair decreed. But realized he had spoken out of turn, “If Cullen doesn't mind.”  
  
Everyone turned to look at Cullen, who agreed.  
  
\--- --- --- --- --- ---  
Branson had left, along with Josephine and Thom who had disappeared. Morrigan fought with Amelia for a long while about the party and won as she was dismissed from the festivities. Dorian and Sera were more than happy to stick around. Leliana, Cassandra, and Sera left separately to get drinks. Alistair and Amelia hitched a ride together, leaving Dorian and Guinevere to get a ride from Cullen. Dorian, obviously claiming shotgun.  
  
Cullen fumbled at the keys to the apartment. For two men living in an apartment, it was pretty clean. Cullen mumbled something about getting ready for the party and left Dorian and Gwen alone in the living room.  
  
“Where did you go? While gallivanting with a soldier?”  
  
“It wasn't like that!”  
  
“What was it then?”  
  
“You know I don't like storms, neither does he.”  
  
“And it was all innocent?”  
  
“Yes, Dad.”  
  
Dorian clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Fine, I'll be here when you would like to grace me with the details!” Flinging himself dramatically against the couch. Guinevere deposited Cullen's jacket on the coat rack, with a shake of her head, stalking into the kitchen.  
  
Blonde curls started to spring from his usually styled hair, his arms deep into a sink full of suds.  
  
“Can I help you?”  
  
Cullen motioned with his head toward a rag, “If you don't mind drying.”  
  
Guinevere bound to his side, drying the few dishes Cullen had already washed. The work was done in relative silence, fingers brushing at increasingly regular intervals. But soon the chore devolved into a playful fight upon Cullen dropping a heavy plate into the water. Sprays suds into Guinevere's cheeks, she retorted with flicking water back. at him   
  
By the time the three females had arrived, Cullen was fending off the red head with the spraying house...and she was using a lid as a shield. Both possibly soaked more than what the rain had managed.  
  
Leliana giggled, Cassandra held back a laugh, while Sera prepared an inappropriate comment.  
  
“That's not how ladybits usually get wet. Weirds.”  
  
Cullen straightened, and Guinevere dropped the lid.  
  
 To avoid further embarrassment, they set out to ready for the party as much as they could. Pouring a concoction of alcohols into a large serving bowl. Cullen found Guinevere had rid herself off of the red sweatshirt, walking around in the green tank top, not that he minded the change.  
  
The girls found themselves preoccupied with a racing game, Cassandra doing much better than the three other players by far. The cute calls of the purple dinosaur seemed to mock every one of their defeats. Cullen and Dorian commenting on their lacking skills, between turns on the chessboard.  
  
“Are you sassing me?” Last famous words, as Dorian made his defeat loud and public.  
  
Sera finally gave up her controller in a final fit of anger, as she managed to come in last every race. Cullen took Sera's spot.  
  
“Hit left or right on the D-pad!” Cullen prodded, and Guinevere obeyed. After finding out what the d-pad was.  
  
Delighting as her figure lit up, and began to bounce happily and ignoring any obstacles put in her path. She gained three spots, shooting passed Leliana in her gain. Cullen and Cassandra fought aggressively in first place, Cullen finding himself in second as he instructed the red head to his side. The first race ended, Cassandra in first, Cullen in second and Guinevere taking up the fifth spot. Leliana had managed ninth place.  
  
The next race started with Gwen being the first to cross the starting line. Cassandra moved to attack with a red shell but found Cullen getting in the way with his own kart. Cassandra shot an irritated look across the room at Cullen, who just shrugged grinning widely. Under the protection of Cullen, Guinevere found herself in first place. With Cassandra playing a hard game, which Guinevere was starting figure out how to dodge the shells without any help. Cullen hung out in the lower half of the racers, waiting.  
  
The last lap Cassandra threw everything she had at Guinevere. At Cullen's urging she had kept the red shells circling her kart, saving her those exact three hits. Half a lap was left at this point, and Cassandra was leaning forward in her vengeance.  
  
“Let her hit you.” Cullen murmured to Guinevere softly.  
  
“What, why?” looking at him suspiciously. But trusting the man, she took the hit.  
  
“Blue shell!” Cullen announced.  
  
“You wouldn't” Cassandra cried, as she screen flashed.  
  
Cassandra's kart went down, and Guinevere crossed the finish line in first. Cullen managing to scoot passed Cassandra for second place.  
  
“That's not fair! Cheaters!” Cassandra accused.  
  
Guinevere poked her tongue out at Cassandra, and Cullen gave her another shrug. Cassandra's brown eyes studied them with suspicion. Cullen wasn't able to maintain eye contact for long. Cassandra had already started making many assumptions, and questions regarding his personal feelings.  
  
Cassandra's gaze broke as Amelia and Alistair had finally arrived through the door, carrying three large pizza boxes between them. A large bruise on the side of Alistair's face had started to purple. With a shy peck on Amelia's cheek, he turned to watch the rest of the race, catching the glare Cassandra had fired. Cassandra ended up winning the cup but didn't seem to think it was good enough.  
  
Guinevere was done with the game after Cassandra's display of poor sportsmanship. Finding an empty seat at the chess set, arranging the wooden pieces complacently back into order. With s soft thud, the seat across from her had been filled. The woman with short brown hair bore her eyes into Guinevere.  
  
“We have not been properly introduced. I am Cassandra, and you are Guinevere, yes?” Tone even, but lined by some awkwardness.  
  
“Yes, have you known Cullen long?”  
  
“Yes, I was in the military with him for a couple of years. I left to become a detective in the civilian world.” Moving a pawn forward two spaces on the board, initiating a game.  
  
A white piece moved forward one space, followed by another of Cassandra's black pawns to move forward. Guinevere retorted by releasing her knight, in a bold but little thought out move.  
  
“What do you do for a living?”  
  
“I design clothes.”  
  
“Family?” Cassandra moved a pawn to capture the knight.  
  
“None to speak of. You?”  
  
“Too many to speak of, though they are all in Nevarra. You're not from Ferelden, are you?”  
  
“Ostwick. I moved here for a job.”  
  
“Ah.” Cassandra continued the game, capturing many of Gwen's pieces. Either the red-head was hardly trying, or had little patience for the game. Cassandra suspected both. Grilling Guinevere with questions that made her feel uncomfortable.  
  
“Do you have a problem with me?” Guinevere asked boldly.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Then why all the questions?” Trying to spin this in a more playful light, the half scowl Cassandra was cultivating made that difficult.  
  
“I'm just curious.” Cassandra retorted evenly, “Knowing so little about your own origins is strange.”  
  
“I'm sorry I can't assuage your 'suspicions' by suddenly recalling, or by making my dismal childhood more interesting.” Allowing her words to positively drip with sarcasm.  
  
Cassandra recoiled, “They were only questions!”  
  
“Tact is considered in the scope of normal manners.”  
  
“Ugh.” Cassandra's thin lips curled, revealing a flash of pearly tooth. Guinevere extended her arm, knocking aside each piece resting on the board. Forcing the pieces against the far right side.  
  
“Checkmate, your game.”  
  
It was decided, internally, that now was the time to visit the commode. Spending several minutes to try and straighten her hair to a more presentable level. The next few were spent trying to wrangle away the creases in the ribbed tank top. It rode up uncomfortably, which meant to Guinevere was that it showed even an inch of scarred hip. Low riding jeans didn't cover much, and the top had been barely long enough...before it had been soaked twice. The sweater was still far too wet to think about wearing.  
  
After noticing she had been hogging the bathroom for a good fifteen minutes, she had decided it was time to give another a turn. Guinevere was startled to find Alistair waiting behind the door.  
  
“Heeey, friend.”  
  
“Yes, Alistair?”  
  
“The company is rough, aren't they?”  
  
Guinevere pursed her lips, then released a puff of air vibrating her top lip. “I didn't mean to cause a scene. I am a guest here,” chiding herself with her own words.  
  
“Cassandra is good at that. You should see her and Leliana go at it, or Morrigan and her. Either way, bam, frog time!”  
  
Gwen chortled, “You would love Vivienne!”  
  
“Bring her around to many parties?”  
  
Guinevere shook her head.  
  
“Thank you for coming, Gwen!” the ginger continued on in his gushing, with a different subject “I really appreciate it, along with others. “   
  
“Amelia?” Guinevere countered cheekily.  
  
“Yeeeess. Her a lot too.”  
  
“What got you into playing rugby?” Guinevere asked.   
  
With a love-sick glance, his eyes found the bubbly Amelia. Who was taking the level of competition up ten notches. Straight out issuing challenges to Cassandra, Cullen, and Dorian. Along with commanding out who had to take shots for what places, or actions.  
  
“Amelia suggested it. Something manly to get the blood rushing, Something like that.” Alistair pat his tummy, “And to get rid of this.”  
  
“I wouldn't think she cares about your stomach Alistair.”  
  
The man blushed.  
  
“Besides, you two must have had plenty of time to caboodle while waiting for pizza.”  
  
“Heeeeeyyy,” Alistair whined, “That's my word.”  
  
Guinevere waved Alistair away with a flick of her hand. Spirits lifted, she retreated to an empty spot on the couch ignoring any looks sent her way. Amelia was the first to dare break the glare Cassandra had laser focused on the back of Gwen's head. A red cup was presented, full of a blue liquid. It was quickly downed, with the blonde fetching another.  
  
With fuel refilled, she got back into the action. Cheering on Sera, transferring the knowledge she had gained from Cullen. Eventually, Sera just handed over the wand, letting Guinevere gain her a couple of spots. The couch beside her was empty, and eventually, everyone else dropped from the game. Conjugating into a cramped kitchen, loud chanting spoke of shots. Prone to overindulgence, Gwen wisely decided to scroll through Blightbook. Watching the number of friend requests skyrocket, the show had now aired across all coasts. The cup was finished, throwing her legs over the couch she laid down. Listening to the game of fingers.  
  
“Four!” Declared Alistair. His finger didn't leave the cup.  
  
“Three!” Rang Cassandra. She hadn't guessed correctly either.  
  
“Six!” Bravely guess Leliana, she did not leave the circle either.  
  
“One.” Cullen's baritone spoke. Alistair swore as Cullen was the first to leave the circle.  
  
Steps paced evenly toward the couch, Guinevere still buried deeply into her phone. Trying to solve this friend problem. Cullen placed his arms on the couch, looking over the female. Amber eyes flickering over her figure, soft curves and valleys drew his eye to the well of her hips. Pale skin showed, the top of the half inch circle marred the otherwise perfect skin. A small hand thrust the green fabric back over the marks, exposing further cleavage. Eyes happily following those lines, to her face.  
  
“So, what's happening here?”  
  
“You know, moping.”  
  
Cullen chuckled, “Wishing to mope alone?”  
  
Guinevere curled her nose at him with a playful shake of her head, swinging her legs down from the arm of the couch, and finally scooting over.  
  
“But let me switch the game over.”  
  
Watching him eject the disc turned into a moment to savor, watching his firm bottom bend in her direction. Head tilting, to enjoy the view from a different angle. But it didn't last long enough, as the couch beside her sunk under his weight. The T.V. Popped in bright colors, the same character graced the screen, decreeing his name as before.  
  
“A to jump?”  
  
“Yes, but sometimes you need B, with A to make the jump.”  
  
“And B is on the back?”  
  
“Exactly!”  
  
The map loaded, and the first jump came easily enough, the second one was a close call. But the first enemy ended in death, as the bubble floated around the map. Cullen popped the bubble as she was suddenly pulled back into the game. The level went slowly, and with every death, Guinevere shrank. Until the worst happened. Cullen was hit by a red spinning shell. Guinevere stopped the movement of her character.  
  
“You've gotta save me.”  
  
“But you're over there, passed that spinning shell.”  
  
“You can make it.”  
  
“You can't be serious.”  
  
Guinevere inched the character forward, jumping to the last platform where she was safe from the shell ricocheting against the barriers. The pipe to the next checkpoint lay in that dangerous path.  
  
“I'm going to kill us, Cullen.”  
  
“Oh, hush.” in an only slightly mocking tone.  
  
Gwen could only manage to make the character jump into the air. Being under pressure only made her more nervous. Large fingers cupped her hands, guiding her fingers into the correct order of button presses. In perfect honesty, Gwen didn't do a thing. Rough calluses caused sparks, that caused her head to spin. Not noticing the word 'Clear' gracing the screen. Blue-green eyes blinking slowly at the man's head above her, amber eyes found hers back. Fingers released, realizing what they were doing.  
  
“Sorry, I'm not any good at this...game.”  
  
Guinevere did not remember the rest of that night.


	6. The Suit of Riposte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misfortunes happen after work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must put a warning here, if anything involving guns, violence, or blood bothers you please be aware that this chapter might contain some upsetting material. PTSD flashback warning as well.

“In just six episodes of Project Val Royeaux, you have managed to become a crowd favorite. Tell me, Guinevere, are you dating?” The short, and stocky man asked. With a grin, a recording device on the stool to his right.

“No, I'm too busy for that.”

“Nobody in your life, nobody worth mentioning?” He pressed, pen tip resting against the paper.

Guinevere blushed, smoothing back her hair attempting to hide her reaction.

“But we are blushing, I'll take it.”

The man continued, pressing the end of his pen against his open and exposed chest hair.

“You're only twenty-four, pretty young to be in this industry. How did that happen?” Gold eyes looking to her again.

“I grew up in state care, and occasionally foster homes. I didn't have anything other than school to care about. One of the ladies I fostered at, showed me how to sew.” Her voice cracked, out of pride and the memories behind her words, “I started with fixing clothes, to turning old clothes to new ones. Lack of budget to always properly clothe myself. For school, I just worked to get ahead, I graduated high school early and went to college immediately after.”

“A tragic back story to boot, but that can wait for another time. You have answered enough questions, for today.”

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

 

> **|Amelia|** Please tell me you ran into Gwen, and are riding off into the sunset together.
> 
> **|Cullen|** No?
> 
> **|Amelia|** Granted, she is always a little late. She's an hour and a half late, nobody can get through to her cellphone. She's missing ladies gym night.
> 
> **|Cullen|** Maybe that's why she won't answer you.
> 
> **|Amelia|** I am at her apartment.
> 
> **|Cullen|** Where does she work?

 

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

 

Guinevere held down the power button, praying that just the force against the button would cause the device to spark back into power. With a sigh her head again turned to look at the couple whispering at her, in a language she did not understand. Stirring the bowl with the sole pair of chopsticks they could offer her, the meal of rice noodles, meat and veggies steamed before her. Even with half of the large bowl down, she still felt light headed and sick. Her feet stung, and cried out with angry pulsing.

 

The small, old lady approached her. “Eat, or done?”

 

Guinevere had stayed in the restaurant for fifteen minutes without touching her food. Placing down the chopsticks, she left a crisp bill easily twice the cost of the meal on the table.

Leaving the more shack-than-restaurant she had not received any further revelation to where she might be. The city was starting to turn dark, and she was more lost than usual. But not more than she already was. Whilst not being the most observant person, she did pay attention to clothing. Seeing a suit of Riposte was a rare treat, but seeing the same suit with the same shamefully torn hem sent her alarms ringing. The interview with Mr. Tethras had been a last second thing, originally scheduled a week later but his interviewee had bailed, leaving an empty time slot for her.

How likely was it that the same person showed up twice? In a location even deeper into the tall, and crammed buildings that made up the inner city. Gwen found herself running, slipping, and stumbling to get away. The man had slipped away, but she felt watched. Panicked, and without a phone to call for help. She was also hungry, famished from other weekend without hardly a break. Filming, traveling, designing. No time for eating, any spare time was spent making herself presentable. At all times she must display the quality of her brand, in her clothing. Vivienne, her supervisor would have nothing less. Especially with the publicity Gwen had gained herself, becoming the star pupil of her work office.

Star pupils did not have time to breath, without critique. Much less be allowed to eat, while on _her_ time.

Although panicked, she knew she needed sustenance. Slipping into the first public restaurant she could sufficed, giving her a needed breather. If only to delay the inevitable.

Blue-green eyes searched the alleyways, picking which one would be the best one to wander down. They all looked dark, and not terribly promising. This part of the city was unknown to her. It was quiet, as most of the apartments in the area were lit up with families having dinner. Nobody to ask directions, or call to for help. No person who looked trustworthy.

The deeper she walked into the labyrinth of the city, the darker and seedier it got. Graffiti began staining every few streets, to every other, to every street. Guinevere shuttered under her pea-coat, facing a dead end.

 _CRACK_. The very air around her ears ripped violent, and loud. If the ringing in her ears had managed to subside in time the drop of an empty shell, and clack of the gun cocking were a clear warning. The female went down, falling hard to her knees against the broken pavement. A hot ring of metal nestled against her skull, and blood trickled from the left ear. If Guinevere screamed, it was lost in the blast and screeching of her ears.

 

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

 

“Amelia, where are you?” Cullen gruffed over the phone, listening to Amelia get increasingly panicked was turning his own nerves on edge.

Cassandra proved to be of little help, stating that a missing person's case could only be started after a twenty-four hour period. After accusing Guinevere unfairly of being a trollop.

They had managed to call the interviewer, the follow the direction she went after leaving his office. Rufus had actually managed to be of some help, pointing Cullen in the direction of the place she had stopped for food. Speaking to the couple was difficult, but a kitchen worker who had barely seen a glance of Guinevere confirmed she had been there.

Cullen grew irate, forcing back the strands of his unruly hair. If this was just some dramatic show, or a misunderstanding he would blow his lid. Thinking because she had time to stop and eat, that this was becoming the case.

“Just keep searching in the direction you are, just don't get lost. Keep Alistair close.” Not that Amelia needed the protection, but going in pairs was the smarter idea.

_Crack._

“Call the police, the Haven apartments near East Guerrin Ave.” Cullen was only a few blocks from where he grew up, but this was an area he knew to avoid from childhood. The streets down here turned into many dead ends. Gang activity was pretty common here, and Rufus took off in a dead run after the sound of the gun.

Cullen's heart raced, spine throbbing in cold shocks. His breathing grew heavier, as the night city-scape turned into bright lights and hot sand. Every step felt heavy as the sand threatened to suck in his combat boots. Everything went heavy, his shoulders taking most of the weight. With a deep breath, he charged gliding across the sand. Weight forgotten as the enemy appeared, lining up his rifle to execute his comrade. This time Cullen made it in time, arms squeezing with a force of a constrictor around the man's neck. _He would pay, he would feel-_

“Cullen! Cullen!” A screaming voice interrupted his thoughts, sand fading into concrete, “CULLEN!”

It was not enough, preparing his muscles for a movement all too familiar.

“No, don't kill him Cullen! Please, don't kill him!” The voice cried, still screaming. There was not screaming, not any that he remembered. The warmth and weight faded, as the alley way came back into full view. Rufus stood between him, and a very frightened Guinevere. The mabari's teeth curled in a snarl.

His arms released the man from the death grip, the suited man left unconscious.

“What are you doing out here?” Cullen snarled, the vision was gone. But not the rage.

Guinevere didn't answer, too shell shocked to answer that question. Hands feeling behind her as she crawled away. As Cullen pursued. Rufus stayed his ground, growl turned to bark. Shaking turned to tears.

“I'm not out here for fun,” An ugly sob accompanied her words. It was a statement made for a humorous quip, lost in the situation.

The mabari allowed Cullen to collect Guinevere into his arms, pulling the female against his shoulder. Nuzzling her right side, hand splayed wide and tight against her back. “You scared me.” Holding the female tighter, keeping her arms pinned to her sides.

“Why did you run here? Why didn't you ask for help?” He implored.

She shook again, whispers falling on a deaf ear.

“I'm scared, Cullen.” Guinevere muttered.

Slowly his grip relaxed, but his hands never completely left her. Kneading her shoulder's tenderly as amber eyes looked her over, noting the blood running from the right ear. Scrapped knees, and calf. One hand left to fish for her bag, meekly her arms started to move fumbling through the bag with much more grace then he could manage in any state. Gauze, a water bottle, and some antibiotic. It would do.

From her shoulder his hand glided to her knee, wetting a napkin and pressing it tenderly against the wound. The woman hardly recoiled, as the grit was cleaned the action repeated on her other wounds. Guinevere's knees pushing together to protect her modesty.

“You know, I miss talking to you.” Amber eyes looking at her sheepishly, touching the ointment to the wound.

“You never sent me a word.” Tone defensive, wits returning to a normal state.

“You deleted your number from my phone.” Cullen stated, threading the gauze around the first knee.

“I wouldn't!” Sniffling in her response.

“Cullen! Gwen!” Amelia and Alistair rounded the corner, Alistair out of breath. Amelia took a step forward, but decided against it. Seeing the unconscious man on the ground, with Rufus sitting on the man's back. The dog almost looked smug.

“Amelia, please take or kick away his gun. Can I trust you to detain him if he wakes up?” Turning his head to speak to the blonde, not turning his gaze until he got a satisfactory answer.

“What happened?” Alistair braved.

“Where you followed?” Cullen ignored the question, not solid on the answer either. With a nod, they all got there answer.

“Mia, is on her way too.” Alistair meekly mentioned, taking a reflexive position behind his woman.

“Mia, doesn't- Mia is never letting me hear the end of this.”

“I thought it would be best, because of your PT-.”

“Alistair!” Chorused Amelia and Cullen.

The sound of Siren's reached them before the lights flooded into the alleyway. Cullen hadn't managed to wrap the second knee, but it had been cleaned.

Cassandra was the first to appear, looking over the scene with a scowl. Focusing mostly on the man the Mabari had pinned, just in case. Rufus moved for the detective sensing clearly that she could handle the situation. Whether or not the man had been acting, her awoke with a sudden furry tearing fabric as he attempted to throw Cassandra aside, in his best attempt at an opening. Quickly a knee buried itself into his back, as he had misjudged Cassandra. Used to taking down military men of all professions. He was cuffed, and pushed into the first squad car. An ambulance, and another squad car arrived as back up. Followed by a red Hart.

The EMT's separated Cullen from Guinevere with the help of a frazzled Mia. Mia questioned her brother, before another policeman could pull him aside. Whilst Guinevere was being checked over by the EMT, clearing her to be left to the police department. Giving a diagnosis of a ruptured ear drum. A doctor would need to see to her after this point.

“No, you can't take her in.” Cullen stated, turning angry at the suggestion of Guinevere being questioned.

“Mr. Rutherford we need-”

“No, she's been through enough!”

“Cullen! I'll see that she is not hurt. We just need to be sure she didn't cause this, or isn't involved in anything.” Cassandra throwing herself between the officer, and her angry friend.

Cullen scowled, and turned on his heel. Mia ran after him.

Guinevere let herself be led into Cassandra's vehicle, letting the ride lapse into silence.

 


	7. Secrets unwinding.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra discovers information that will change everything.

“What is your involvement with this man!” Enforcing the statement by slamming her fist against the metal table. The torn sleeve revealing the white dress shirt underneath.

 

Guinevere focused on that, as a few silent tears slipped from the corner of her eyes. Letting the annoyance of the torn garment fester building up her own will to speak.

 

“I don't know him, he followed me.”

 

“Why?” She questioned, burrow furrowing.

 

“I don't know.”

 

With a tick of her tongue she spun away from the red-head, pulling out her phone.

 

> **|Cullen|** If you dare hurt her.

 

With a disgusted noise she slipped it back into her pocket.

 

“Why were you in that part of town?” She asked, flippantly.

 

“I had an interview, last minute.”

 

“And what made you suspect you were being followed?” Cassandra was finding this way she got answer, but found annoyance in the way her suspects eyes kept wandering to her torn shoulder.

 

“I recognized the Riposte suit, with the small tear in the left hem of his pants. They aren't cheap, and it's a shame to leave them torn. The rest of the seam was starting to come out, he had let it sit for a while. I noticed he also was machine wash-” Guinevere started on the easiest tangent she could find.

 

“That's enough.” Silencing Guinevere's rant. Whispering a few words to her partner.

 

“I'll be back.”

 

“Cassandra, wait!”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Can I please mend that jacket?”

 

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

 

Cassandra watched Guinevere work from the other side of the mirror. She had decided against taking her things, as they really had no reason to suspect she was dangerous, or honestly at fault. Even for how uncomfortable Cassandra felt about the woman, her story made sense. The detective was starting to see the case partially, and treated Guinevere without a bias. Or course the man was refusing to speak without a lawyer present. But a frayed hem on his left pant leg fit the story perfectly.

 

Brown eyes continued to watch the female dip her needle through the jacket, making short work of repairing the sleeve. Cassandra was impressed and was relieved to have her favorite jacket be back in full repair.

 

The computer dinged, finally obtaining Guinevere's record from Ostwick.

 

Cassandra's face blanched.

 

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

 

Cullen huffed, and folded his arms. Legs spread wide as he sat on the couch.

 

Fingers tapped against his arms, almost driving Mia to pull out her hair within five minutes. Natalie was shooed to her room, with Jon as entertainment. Rufus laid at Cullen's feet, an ear perked at his master.

 

Finally his arms unfolded to check his phone for the tenth time, still no response from Cassandra. Texts from Amelia were ignored. Unproductively he scrolled through his text threads, hoping that somehow the lost conversations with Guinevere would just appear. He grew angry with her, and himself. A drunk Guinevere had rambled through his phone, doing little but downloading a few surprise songs for him. And of course, deleting her phone number and conversations from his phone.

 

Had she really been that angry with him?

 

Should he have kept his hand around hers? Should he have not moved to thread his fingers through hers? Was that too childish? Like a puppy-love infested pair of teenagers. Did she not like that? Had she waited just one more second, his hand would have refused to leave that tangle until she made him. She had left, and started drinking. Bouncing between the crowd, and refusing to land against him for more than a nanosecond. Red hair whipping as she sang, and spun.

 

He had braved his embarrassment and chided Cassandra for behaving so brutishly.

 

The TV popped into action, the girl of his thoughts appearing on screen.

 

“Oh, sorry, I was watching Project Val Royaeux, I will change it.” Mia fumbled, switching the hand that she held the remote in with a wet cloth.

 

“No, leave it. I haven't seen any of it.” Cullen urged.

 

Mia obliged with a shrug. He grew jealous, watching her work away on the screen. Alistair had seen her, several times. Amelia always seemed to mention adventures in her blossoming friendship with Guinevere. The world could see Guinevere, giving the camera wide eyed looks as she did now. It deepened Cullen's frown, it only went further as Mia stuck the wet rag in his face.

 

“What was that for?” He questioned irritably.

 

“You had blood on your cheek.”

 

Cullen grunted.

 

“I can't watch this. I'll say hi to Nat, so she doesn't hate me.” Propelling himself from the couch with a groan.

 

“You have it pretty bad, Brother.” Mia commented nonchalantly, earning a scowl.

 

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

 

Cassandra walked into the room solemnly. Drawing suspicion immediately from the red-head woman, who slid the jacket across the table. Cassandra put it on, noting that the damage was almost unnoticeable.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“If you ever need a better jacket, I can point you to a brand with excellent tear resistance,” Finding herself wanting to avoid the entire thanking conversation, “But you're welcome.”

 

Cassandra picked her words carefully, feeling clearly the battle nug in the room, the one she could only see. “I understand you are in a serial television program. Has anything strange happened since then?”

 

“I've got a lot of strange letters and packages, but I'm working with the post on that.” Guinevere thought, “Some visitors, but my complex has tightened rules on buzzing people in. They actually lock that door now.”

 

Cassandra raised an eyebrow, “Have you contacted the police about it?” Cassandra knew that answer, as she had kept tabs. Just before this occasion, she had no clearance therefore chance to read her file.

 

“No, I didn't want to cause undue trouble.” Gwen stated, furrowing her brow at Cassandra. The detective grew strange enough that Gwen was catching on that something was amiss.

 

Cassandra gulped, some secrets were hard to keep and this one was a shocker. One that caused her to take pity on Cullen's interest. _Retrograde Amnesia, Cassandra, she doesn't know. Shouldn't know._

 

“If you ever feel threatened, or get threats let us know. We, I, can help,” Cassandra faltered, fingers taping against the door handle, “We don't need to hold you here any longer. I can take you home, if you wish.”

 

“I would like that.” Taking the gesture with tact, gathering her bag into her arms.

 

Cassandra lead Guinevere to her vehicle playing the ultra nice card by opening every door for her charge. Even to the extent of opening the passenger door. Guinevere paused at this gesture, almost too tired to ask but dying to know.

 

“I'm going to be blunt, and ask why the change of heart toward me?” Biting her lip, bracing for an answer she would not like.

 

“I realize I am often harsh,” this was difficult for Cassandra to swallow, “I am often overprotective, and don't stop until I get all the answers I want.”

 

“Doesn't answer what changed,” Gwen pushed her luck.

 

“If Cullen trusts you, and likes you I should trust you as well. I do not need anymore reasons.” Cassandra lied, hoping it was enough.

 

A tired Guinevere was satisfied with that answer. Getting into the car, and buckling herself in. Awaiting Cassandra to get in the driver's seat.

 

“Can I ask you another question? One you won't repeat?”

 

“Yes?” Cassandra said slowly.

 

“Are you and Cullen?”

 

“No. He's interested in another.”

 

“Ah.” Guinevere gave a defeated sigh.

 

Cassandra wouldn't affirm or deny a thing, it was unfair to give hope or defeat. Guinevere Trevelyan could assume as she liked. Cullen wasn't a sharer, the detective only gave her opinion, but failed to mention that. Seeing her disappointment was revealing. But gutting at the same time, the silence kept her thoughts in full motion. The passenger nodding off beside her.

 

Gently she shook Guinevere awake, softly telling her that they had arrived. Guinevere moved slowly from the car.

 

“Wait!” Cassandra called, Guinevere turned her head, “That guy is no body to mess with. I'd be careful.”

 

Gwen nodded, too tired to counter back with anything stumbling for her apartment. Cassandra stood watch until she got into the building, her car still running as she looked at her phone.

 

> **|Cassandra|** She is home safe.
> 
>  
> 
> **|Cassandra|** I have something to confess.
> 
>  
> 
> **|Cassandra|** You can't be THAT mad.
> 
>  
> 
> **|Cullen|** I'm not in the mood, Cass.
> 
>  
> 
> **|Cassandra|** First, an offering. I'm sure she has a thing for you.
> 
>  
> 
> **|Cullen|** Cassandra.
> 
>  
> 
> **|Cassandra|** I deleted her number, and conversations from your phone.
> 
>  

 

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

 

Guinevere skipped the next day of work, and got herself into the urgent care. Leaving with little more than instructions to follow for the next eight weeks. Sera stuck home with Guinevere, keeping her company as they played hookie.

 

Amelia texted about a visit, assuming Alistair to be with her. Guinevere expected her to be bothering her, after all she had been too tired to text Amelia that she had arrived home last night. Her phone exploded in the waiting room, keeping her busy during the wait. Josie had called, angrily, but in a subdued tone. Dorian heard through the grapevine at work, and wasn't speaking to Guinevere at the moment. Playing angry about not hearing it from her.

 

Sera buzzed in the guests as Guinevere placated herself with the slew of materials strewn across her lap. Amelia bounded in, loudly, but slowed to move more silently. Guinevere tilted her head back, grinning at the blonde.

 

“You might need to practice being louder, I'll be hard of hearing.” She teased, snorting softly. Perhaps she did not bring a guest after all.

 

Until Sera started to protest, the jingling of metal tags ending with a wet slobbery kiss.

 

“Rufus, you handsome boy!”

 

“Careful, he can understand you.” Shuffling off his shoes as he observed the apartment, “Don't want him getting a bigger head. The dog already thinks he can just run up to pretty ladies whenever he likes.”

 

“Must make you pretty popular, Cullen.” Guinevere teased, drawing out a blush and chuckled from the soldier.

 

A red and yellow apple fell into her lap, drawing Guinevere from her project. Raising an eyebrow at him curiously.

 

“Little birdy said you liked those.”

 

“Indeed!” It was her turn to blush lightly, as she pushed the fabric and supplies into a basket. Ready to devour the apple, as Cullen slid onto the couch beside her. He took the phone left at her side, Gwen only giving the action mild attention. The apple was enough to admit most behaviors, and by the bag he also carried it would last him quite a while.

 

Half the apple was devoured, then placed on her stand as she picked up the fabric. Busying and preventing herself from leaning in to close to the man. Gwen felt Cullen's eyes watching her. But kept answering questions that Amelia had stored for bombardment. The more questions asked, the longer the sighs accompanying her answers. Yes, she was still shaken but would rather forget about the ordeal in the mean time. She felt safe at present, and that was enough.

 

Cullen's phone dinged, receiving a message sent from Guinevere's phone. Fixing every bit of damage left by Cassandra's meddling.

 


	8. Chapter 8

> **|Cullen|** Mia would like to have you over for dinner.
> 
>  
> 
> **|Guinevere|** Is that appropriate?
> 
>  
> 
> **|Cullen|** I wouldn't know why not, and by you it means Sera and any friends you want to bring.
> 
>  
> 
> **|Cullen|** Mia used to throw this party for my friends once a year, she'd like to do it again.
> 
>  
> 
> **|Guinevere|** Sign me up for some homemade food!
> 
>  
> 
> **|Guinevere|** I also have a special guest to bring along.

 

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

 

_Special guest? What could that mean? Could she?_ Cullen huffed about it, right up to the dinner. Mia tried to understand why he was so upset, but couldn't draw it out. So she busied Cullen in cooking, and errands. Intentionally forgetting items so that Cullen was kept running back and forth. It was just easier to not hear him sighing. Especially when he would not share the details. 

 

Cassandra was the first to arrive, it was only two weeks since the entire debacle with the gunman. She proceeded with caution, unsure with how much anger Cullen still held on to. Mia luckily greeted her first, Cullen's anger presenting in nothing more but a neutral expression. Her hands shifted through her short looks, working out the chunky snowflakes. The second Mia scuttled away, Cullen pounced.

 

“How has tailing her gone?”

 

“Other than irritating my boss, well,” Remarking half snidely, “nothing I couldn't handle with minimum effort. I don't think I will need to follow her any longer.”

 

“Why?” He half growled.

 

“You'll see.” She stated, ignoring Cullen's display, “He got away Cullen. I don't like it.”

 

“How could you possibly think she is safe?” Pushing the subject further. 

 

“She'll be as fine as she can be.” Cassandra not completely surprised when he gave up an angry sigh. 

 

The dog and door jingled with more excitement, he could clearly hear Dorian complaining before the man strode into sight. He was lecturing Sera, whilst smoothing his hair. The pale female just chortled. Next Guinevere's smile face popped into view, a white cotton covering guarding the right ear behind curled hair. What came in behind her was more shocking, a man with grey skin loomed above her. Cullen felt the lining of his throat thicken, cold shocks tenderly lapping out. 

 

Cassandra took his elbow between two fingers, trying to draw him into the present world. Guinevere saw this, and adverted her eyes. Connecting some imaginary, and tangible dots. Mia poking her head in to look at the company.

 

His gaze focused back on the terrifying man, complete was an eye-patch. His stubble turning into the close buzz cut he kept. The Qunari gave a sideways grin under such scrutiny. The smile a little out of place for a man with such a deep chest, and soft stomach.

 

“Who is your guest, Guinevere?” Mia asked, eyes bouncing between Cullen and the Qunari.

 

“Oh! You must excuse my faux pas of bringing another guest, but this is the newest fixture in my life. Bull.” Presenting the man with a dramatic sweep of her hands. The man waved.

 

“Those words hurt, ma'am,” Bull cooed humorously.

 

“He's my bodyguard for the time being.”

 

“I won't be in the way, I assure you.” Bull added.

 

Mia was the first to answer, “Don't feel like a stranger either! We're glad Gwen has someone to keep her safe.” Looking and sounding a little prouder in that statement than she should have. 

 

Bull moved over for Guinevere, who guided over the next guest. A young man with white blonde hair that feel into his face. Cullen noted the large nose, and sunken in blue eyes. 

 

“I'm Cole!” He announced, merrily. Hands fidgeting with one another.

 

“He's the closest thing I have to a brother.”

 

With introductions quickly finished, Bull followed after Dorain with a proclamation, “Dorian the Explorer!”

 

Sera moved to her first target of the day, Cassandra. Cullen got the feeling that Sera had a vendetta to make Cass pay for, “Hey grumpy cheeks, what's under there?” Pointing to the kitchen counter behind the detective.

 

“Under where?” Cassandra questioned foolishly, turning around to look.

 

“Hahaha, underwear!” The pale blonde pulled on Cassandra's knickers, initiating a quick chase. 

 

Cullen found Guinevere chatting with a frowning Mia, the females looking at the oven with dismay. The red-head brightened, whatever she said had made Mia grin. With a skip Guinevere quickly chased down Bull, with Cole in tow. Leaving Cullen alone with Mia in the kitchen.

 

“Cullen, are you going to be alright?” Mia asked, giving a concerned look over a shoulder. 

 

“Yeah, it was just a surprise. I didn't think a Qunari would be here, of all places and times.” He admitted, stroking back his hair.

 

“At least it wasn't a boyfriend!” Mia snickered.

 

“Funny, Sister.”

 

Mia went silent as Guinevere, Bull, Natalie and Cole all bolted for the door. Gearing up in winter gear before heading out the door. It was a little odd that she did not ask, but she continued chopping the boiled potatoes into smaller pieces. 

 

“Cullen, could you keep cutting these potatoes for me?” 

 

Cullen took the knife offered by Mia, wondering why he had to keep chopping the already soft pieces. Shouldn't they have been mashed by now?

 

Dorian soon filed through the door, with heavy steps he went down the steps. 

 

“You bleating cow!” The Tevinter man roared, followed by Bull roaring in laughter loudly. 

 

Sera at the sound of shenanigans rushed passed him in a gush of air, Guinevere squealed loudly. Rufus pattered up the door, tilting his head at the door. Whimpering softly.

 

With another scream Natalie announced the arrival of Alistair. But the first thing to meet Alistair was not Natalie, as Alistair whined in retaliation. Sera's obnoxious giggle echoed from the yard, snickering as the sounds of a waged war followed. Amelia laughing as she joined in. Mia found her way back in the kitchen, placing herself beside her brother. 

 

“Can you check on Gwen for me? She was meant to get me something.”

 

Cullen gave Mia a suspicious look. Mia continued, “Please make sure you are dressed for the weather.”

 

“Mia?”

 

“Cullen, get!” Pointing the wooden spoon dripping with gravy at him. 

 

Slowly Cullen worked on his jacket and gloves, fishing on a black beanie with a red stripe. Rufus looked at him with intensifying love, whimpering ever so softly. A paw touching against the door lightly, he wanted to play. Cullen let the dog out first, and tactically to avoid any immediate mischief. Rufus started running in tight circles, throwing up the powdered snow. Dorian wasn't looking like he was having much fun with his arms folded. The Qunari stood in large contrast to the small Cole, and smaller Natalie that he was helping create a large snow man with. Amelia fling snow into Alistair's face at close range. Sera was absent. But where was  _she_ ?

 

_Thunk._ A thick and wet snowball slid down his cheek, his head turning in the direction of the projectile. Guinevere stood frozen, mouth open wide but partially covered by a white knit glove. Blue-green eyes wide, face turning redder behind flawless makeup. Sera snickered behind her, fleeing before Cullen started charging. The red-head was glued to the spot, and only struggled once she was swept up and off her feet. Hitting his arms weakly, in pretend fervor. 

 

“No, no, no. No. No. No.” Guinevere squealed, kicking her feet for effect. As Cullen spun her around, beginning to dip her face toward the snow.

 

Her protests became more violent, arms throwing themselves around his neck fighting to keep her head from the biting snow. Cullen chuckled, finding his forehead resting against hers. Eyes locking as time slowed, his entire being focused on her warm breath, the soothing aroma of jasmine filling his head space . It would be so easy, tilting his mouth forward. Inhaling her intoxicating red lips, the small chin quivered. Turquoise eyes closing as he felt her breath hitch, hair nestling and tickling his neck in adjustment for a better angle.

 

“Wait! Cassandra is coming!” Turquoise eyes flooded open, ripping him from the moment. His arms loosened as Guinevere slipped away.

 

With amber eyes again opened to the world, he found every other person staring at him. His neck flushing a bright red. Alistair grinned, while Amelia looked a little disappointed. Bull looked like he had just stumbled across a secret. Leliana cooed, arriving just in time to witness this development. 

 

With a start he felt something being pressed into his hand, and heard Guinevere urge him to pitch it at the detective. He could do nothing but obey.

 

“How dare you!” Cassandra cried, investigating the party outside. But gaining a jacket in her investigations. Like a rabid bear she charged, stooping to fling any lose snow she could at the man. Cullen could only withstand her barrage by holding his arm out to shield his face, As Sera joined the battle. The battle was soon fought on three fronts. Cullen lost track of Guinevere. 

 

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

 

With a loud call from Mia, the group flooded back inside the first few people headed for the table tasked with setting down plates around the table. The table with extended with extra boards and chairs. Guinevere noted that the food smelled heavenly, stomach growling loudly beside Dorian.

 

Natalie insisted to sit between Alistair and Cole. Amelia sat on Alistair's other side, as Mia took point. Next to Cole Leliana sat down, Sera took the other end of the table. Gwen took that chance to sit kiddy corner from Sera, calling Dorian beside her. Bull sat on the other side of Dorian, much to the Tevinter's annoyance. Cass sat nearest to Mia, as Cullen took the seat between Bull and Cassandra. He looked down the table, unable to see much of Guinevere to his visib;e disappointment. The meal started in chaos.

 

With minimal fussing, all the dishes had been passed around. Individual parts of the table beginning to converse with another, wine and sparkling grape juice flowing. Cullen became wrapped up in Bull teasing Dorian, almost chocking on his food between bites. Amelia and Alistair looked to be in their own world, starstruck with one another. Cole and Natalie played with their food, drawing Nat a few looks of ire from her mother. Guinevere's focus moved to Leliana and Sera talking about their work, and the latest hacker attack on the Qun government. The conversation was passed Guinevere, so she turned to suckling her wine.

 

Alistair cleared his throat above the noise of the table, drawing the attention to him. The man's ears and cheeks turned a deep red.

 

“I have an announcement to make.” Clearing his throat in the nerves he suddenly felt.

 

“Amelia and I, are now dating!” He stated proudly, delivering Amelia a peck on her cheek. Managing to prompt the blonde into the slightest of a blush.

 

“You're shitting us, you two weren't before?” Bull loudly stated, speaking out of turn.

 

“Mommy, what's shitting?” Natalie questioned, suddenly interested.

 

“Nat, we don't say those things!” The glare Bull received could melt metal.

 

“But congratulations to you both.” Bull muttered, lowering his head.

 

With Bull's word the table interrupted into congratulations. Bull's swearing had been forgiven.

 

The meal finished, but the table still roared loudly. With only a few clicks of a fork against Mia's glass, the group fell silent.

 

“As not all of you know, tradition after this meal is the set up of lights. Boys, get started. Us girls have drinking to start.” She winked, “Along with some dishes.”

 

Alistair softly groaned, Cullen knew better recruiting Bull to help him all the lights from a closet. The females gathered the empty plates, and swept them away into the kitchen. Cassandra hung behind with Guinevere, trying to initiate a conversation.

 

“He got away.” Deciding that boldness was the way to go.

 

“How?” Guinevere questioned.

 

Cassandra pulled the only glass stained with red lipstick, refilling the cup and pushing it in her hands.

 

“I don't know how. We were told it was out of our jurisdiction, and he was transferred. The case has already been sealed.”

 

Gwen huffed, the wine sliding far too easily down her throat.

 

“Did you find anything else out?” Eyes searching Cassandra for some sort of answer.

 

“He continued to not speak. I'm sorry.” Leaving Guinevere with that sole nugget.

 

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

 

With the table cleaned, she found the rest of the females fawning over Amelia. Asking many personal questions, with a bottle of brown bear vodka being passed around. As Guinevere entered, she found the questions being focused on her.

 

“I saw Gwen nearly kissing Cullen! How was that?” Leliana cooed.

 

“Lips like those are meant for ladybit lips.” Inserted Sera, somewhat immaturely.

 

“Why didn't you kiss him!” Amelia questioned.

 

“Did I miss something good?” Mia asked.

 

Guinevere reached for the bottle, not proceeding until a long gulp had burned down her throat.

 

“Because nothing is happening.” Gwen suggested. Another long swig moving down the hatch.

 

“I don't agree. Cullen was very upset the night you got attacked.” Mia said.

 

“I have it on clear authority he likes another.” Glancing to Cassandra. Offering the end of the bottle to the detective.

 

“My brother! Never!”

 

“I don't want to talk about it.” Guinevere stated, rescinding her offer of giving up control of the bottle without another long swig.

 

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

 

Leliana, Amelia, and Gwen struggled out the door. Laughing as they helped one another trip. Refusing to part from the latched arm formation they had developed in their drinking. Until the door proved to be too much of an obstacle to triumph over when latched. Proving to be the weakest link, Guinevere stumbled down the steps. Running into the yard as the lights flooded her vision.

 

Unlike Amelia and Leliana who catcalled at Alistair, Guinevere stood in silent awe of the bright lights. Hugging her arms to her sides, smiling as the twinkling white lights lit her face. Her heart felt warmer and full, she had much to be thankful for in these moments. Surrounded by so many new friends- even the fact of being alive made her lucky, never had the young girl thought this could happen. Finding herself laughing as Bull balanced dangerously on the latter, while Dorian kept berating the man for it. Growing upset with how reckless the large man was being. Cole sat uselessly in a tangle of unlit lights, but he had never looked so content, as Cullen tried to get him involved in the process. Alistair was actually helping Cullen, but grew distracted by Amelia and Leliana commenting about his rear end. The pair had tried catcalling Cullen, but that ended in a short glare. His gaze finding Guinevere standing alone, and admiring the lights. With a short promise to Alistair he climbed down from the ladder.

 

Heading for the female standing at the edge of the yard.

 

“How are we doing with the lights?” Glad to find the female wasn't trying to avoid him.

 

“Great! But I like any Christmas lights. I'm not a great judge.” She admittedly meekly, keeping focused on the lights.

 

Cullen was drawn entirely to the sparkle reflecting in her eyes.

 

“Hey, I'm sorry for crossing a line earlier.” She spoke, as the silence lasted a moment too long.

 

“What line?” He asked, genuinely curious.

 

“I know you like someone, but I like you. And this awkward.” Tone too cheery for this kind of broken confession.

 

_I like you too, Guinevere._

 

“How so?” Rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“I know I keep running into you, and you keep helping me. I should help you be happy.” Words starting to become mixed and slurred in her fears.

 

_Please kiss me, that would make me happy._

 

“Have you been drinking?” His face felt hot, he couldn't quite come to terms with another having feelings for him. Cullen knew he was damaged, and bad at acting upon any emotions. Especially when it came to Guinevere, the goddess in woman form. He felt as if he had already done enough to send her packing, but here she was. Admitting feelings through slurred words, and all he could do about it was accuse her of having too much to drink.

 

A part of him also begged for a sober confession, one where he could feel no guilt for taking advantage of her.

 

“Probably, not enough.” With a huff of air, her shoulder's shrank. Leaving his side.


	9. Chapter 9

“Bull, Bullll~” Guinevere sang, pondering over the red-wine vinegar that sat high upon the shelf. Just out of reach, even after struggling to stretch higher upon the few inches granted by balancing on tip toes. The Qunari peaked around the next aisle, following her line of vision to the out of reach bottle.

 

“Another one, Boss?” he asked, quite aware of the answer.

 

“They make these shelves so tall!” Gwen whined, pouting. “And every item I want has been pushed back on the shelf.”

 

“I suppose it makes me work for my wages.” Bull mused, carefully picking the glass bottle from the top shelf with ease.

 

“If Dorian's rear end didn't do it for you.” Gwen chided softly.

 

“I do like a good ass, Boss.”

 

Guinevere chuckled into her phone as it started to beep, Bull knew from the grin who it might be. Looking at the few items she had gathered, though not everything she wanted. It was decided it would do, Amelia and Sera had volunteered to help with more of her shopping later. But _he_ was calling.

 

“That the man? Are we done here?” Guinevere was a quick study when it came to things that drew her attention. With his mere utterance of the word done, the red-headed was bounding for the check out lane. Gray and black poncho flying out after her. Bull could only follow her, shaking his head.

 

Gwen soon found herself back in her studio, pulling out the large stool into the center of the room. Panic tore into the corner of her mind as every little piece of fabric out of place, suddenly became a rotten food item. Needing immediate removal.

 

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

 

Cullen found the long walk through the corridors of the building awkward, but it was for the most part imagined the people around him rushed. None noticed a stranger in the building too busy with the work they already had. Up to the third floor, and down six doors. Room number 27, which a large Qunari man stood guard over.

 

“I'm supposed to stall you.” Already breaking the promise made to Guinevere minutes ago.

 

“Is something wrong?” Cullen asked. Glancing through the glass walls that gave him a perfect picture of the female running from each end of the room.

 

“Not that I can tell.” Bull said.

 

Bull opened the door, urging Cullen inside. Leaving himself to continue to stand guard.

 

Cullen cleared his throat, as Guinevere rushed by him a second time.

 

“Oh! Cullen!” stopping in mid stride, “Excuse the mess.”

 

He gave a soft smile, feeling his neck already beginning to heat. The last face to face meeting had been her small confession, the source of his latest torment. Words thickened in his throat, blocking any attempt at vocalizing even the simplest hello. Cullen was sure it he had caused the female's shoulders to droop. Could she remember?

 

“If you would stand on that stool, it won't take long.” Guinevere continued, pointing to the stool she had in mind, “I'm sorry I couldn't make it this weekend, so you wouldn't have had to come out this far.”

 

“No, it's good to see you.” Obediently stepping up the stool.

 

“If you could, please, remove your jacket and shirt.”

 

“My shirt?”

 

“Oh, no- You don't need to do that!” Speaking to models was her norm, Guinevere had done it out of pure habit.

 

Cullen trailed with his eyes as she ducked into a few more places, pulling out a notebook and pen. Sliding the writing utensil behind her ear, approaching him with the tape measure unwinding in her hand. The cool metal catch nested against his neck, a finger placed against the end of his shoulder. The motion was quickly repeated on the other side.

 

“You have very even shoulders.” The female murmured, attempting to end the silence.

 

“What?”

 

“It was a bad joke.” Apologizing quickly, eyes and hands turning away to catch interest with the paper she scribbled on.

 

“Guinevere,” Cullen turned, touching her forearm softly, “I'm not any good at this, and I don't want things to be awkward,” sighing between his words, “what you said the other night. I. You were.”

 

“Drinking?” Guinevere finished, “I did still mean it, unfortunately.”

 

Her eyes refused to look at him, feeling the faintest quiver race across fair skin fingers digging deeper to be her held in place. Red bottom lip curling under the hold of her teeth.

 

“Why do you drink so much?” The question had been bothering him since that night. It weighed on his thoughts, partially marring the warmness it made him feel for the memory.

 

“It's a bad habit, when I get upset.”

 

Cullen released his grip, pleased that there was no fight. He liked the honest answer. What drew him was openness Guinevere showed him, it was so unlike his own reflex to cover up every last emotion. Guinevere had shared much, with learning little in return. What she had learned had been from the busy mouth of others, Cullen had always heard it from her first. He had admired that, and her more.

 

“Cassandra was wrong, I'm not interested in anyone.” His neck and cheeks flushed, “Not anyone out of reach.” His last sentence muttered lowly, afraid of what it might mean or trigger.

 

Guinevere was silent, but in it Cullen found comfort. Her fingers went back to work, ghosting down his spine. Years of standing at attention barely managed to keep him from quivering. The touch was soon gone, and moved to winding the flexible measure around his upper arm. Expression neutral as the measure was moved to measure the length of his sleeve, the three numbers taken were then jotted into her book.

 

“Can you lift up your arms for me?”

 

Cullen complied, hands folding above his head. Guinevere pressed the metal edge up tight against his arm pit, letting the end of the measure unwind from her hand. The opposite hand followed the measure down, pressing it tightly against his skin, until she reached his hip. Drawing an unwilling and stifled laugh from his lips. Guinevere stopped, regarding him curiously a sculpted eyebrow raised. The devilish female did it again, coaxing out a hissed snicker.

 

“Are we ticklish, Mr Rutherford?” Her voice sultry.

 

“Of course not. Miss Allen.” replied Cullen, smirking.

 

“Ah, it was my imagination then.”

 

Guinevere returned to her work, by moving to his other side. Repeating the action, but this time the snicker had been contained. He was ready for it. A second motion, and a hiss of air escaped. The third was slower, a bold finger bravely crossed over that fraction of an inch track of skin left exposed by his arms extend upwards. The skin to skin contact was electric causing his arms to drop, and his body to whirl in her direction honey eyes darkened.

 

The female backed, eyes wide and mouth opening in apology.

 

With a small drop and leap, he closed the distance between them. He wasn't bold or forward enough to stick his fingers against her skin, but was brave enough to slid them under her poncho. Curling his fingers over the fabric of her shirt. Wishing for payback. The woman's face didn't move, more than adjusting to smirk at him.

 

“Mr Rutherford!” She exclaimed in false dismay. It was her turn to go on the attack, her fingers were much more effective. Causing Cullen to draw his arms inwards to afford his sides any protection. Unable to withstand her assault.

 

“Please.” Pulling in hard to breathe.

 

“Please. No.” He begged, his laughter erupting passed all his defenses.

 

“Please stop!”

 

Guinevere did just that, grinning from ear to ear. A hand clasped her elbow, blushing softly as her eyes found rest on him. Cullen looked to her, honey eyes keeping contact until Guinevere looked away with a soft blush.

 

“I, I am hosting a party. On the Twelfth if you would like-”

 

“I would love to.” He didn't need any more information than that

 

“It's a Makermas party, if that doesn't-”

 

“It doesn't matter what it-” Finding himself interrupted.

 

“I'm sorry Cullen, you need to speak up.” Taping her right ear lightly.

 

“I can't wait, Guinevere.” Speaking up, through the lump in his throat, “but we should finish this first, right?” 


	10. The Party (Part One)

“Sera!” Guinevere cried, looking up at the leaves with white berries attached. A bow held them dangling from the door way.

 

“Your Ladybits?”

 

“I don't like the mistletoe there either, do we need it?” Placing her hands on her hips, this was the third time she had Sera move it, or had moved it herself. Each time it had ended up in different place than she had left it.

 

“Yes, we need it. People and things need kissing.”

 

“Won't that make things uncomfortable?”

 

“Lots of people need kissing.”

 

Guinevere sighed, swatting down the mistletoe much to Sera's disappointment.“So, a compromise. We leave it in the doorway to the laundry room, so that way you can have it up. But only people who _want_ to kiss, will have to kiss.”

 

“Have it your way. No k-i-s-s-i-n-g for you!” Sera taunted, leaving the mistletoe alone for the rest of the night.

 

Gwen checked her phone again, seeing that Cullen had verified he was on his way about twenty minutes ago. That meant he would be there any time now.

 

“Sera, how do I look?” Pushing a bang behind her ear.

 

“The puffy skirt is easy to get under!”

 

“Sera...” Guinevere muttered, patting the red skirt in a vain attempt to flatten it. It had a black crinoline underlining to make it puffy, underneath the somewhat plain skirt. It was belted at the waist, the top of the dress solid over her breasts but the rest of the square-shouldered neckline was finished by a see through red fabric.

 

Sera stuck out her tongue, and patted her bum as she stalked away with the mistletoe.

 

Guinevere hated to admit that she stood by the door, until the call button sounded. With a quick word, and buzz she could hear the metal collar tingling. Forcing herself to wait for two knocks was torture, she didn't want to seem too over zealous. With a soft smile, she opened the door finding her eyes locking with Cullen's.

 

“Welcome!” She offered, holding her arms wide open pleading for a hug.

 

Cullen returned it, holding her tightly across the waist a package her held rustling behind her. Rufus interrupted the embrace, wanting his own bit of attention from the female. Slowly she let go, ignoring the dog for the time being as she let the first two guests into the apartment. But stopping them before they made it passed the foyer. Pulling out two wrapped packages, the much larger one was for Cullen, and he took it was a curious look. For Rufus she crouched, now lavishing the dog with attention.

 

“Please, open it.” She prodded, watching as Cullen removed his faded leather jacket and hung it up. Pretending not to notice the package he placed sideways in the coat rack.

 

Her attention turned to Rufus as Cullen pried open his present, Guinevere sent to work opening the gift for the dog. Revealing a green, with red checkered collar it was designed to look like a human fold over collar, with a fancy bow tie. The Mabari barked softly, showering the female with as many licks as she would take. With permission she buckled the collar around the dog's neck, receiving a last and surprise lick.

 

Standing, she realized Cullen had stopped unwrapping his own present. Holding the white box in his hands. “Please, go ahead.”

 

Eyes shifting down his turtlenecked red sweater, with black pants. It was uncanny how much they matched, with her own black stockings worn under the dress. Golden locks were lose, and left to curl of their own violation. Not without some fussing, but it looked nice. More than nice, as her hands yearned to run through those curls. To touch his man who was now peeling open the long box, nervous hands dropped the box. Holding out the black leather jacket before him, amber eyes caught on the black and red fur lined collar.

 

“Did you make this?” Eyes locked on her.

 

“Do you like it?” Affirming his question first with a nod. “Could you try it on?”

 

With a nod he slipped his arms into the jacket, fingers moving to test out the zipper. It stopped half way, as he admired the jacket. It was fitted to his figure, the collar folded out revealing the fur even when zipped. It had pockets closed by silver zippers.

 

“How do I look?” Cullen asked sheepishly.

 

“Handsome.”

 

Cullen blushed, carefully removing the jacket. Replacing it with the faded one that hung on the coat rack, slipping his old one with the hidden packet inside the white box. Leaving it above his shoes.

 

“What did you need my help with?”

 

“Oh yes!” And on wards to her excuse for having Cullen arrive earlier, the females could had managed putting up the decorations on the ceiling. Gwen had made a show of whining about it, and convinced Sera they should ask for help. After several minutes of issuing orders to Cullen, the project was well underway. The door buzzed again, Guinevere went to answer the door not expecting another guest this early.

 

“Who is it?” Gwen paged over the intercom.

 

“Cassandra.”

 

“Oh, you're early! Come in!”

 

Pressing the button to disengage the lock. Grabbing Cassandra's present while the detective would have been taking the stairs up. With a single knock the detective was let in, her brown eyes surveyed the room. Clutching a manila envelope tighter.

 

“I was hoping you would be alone.”

 

Nodding to Sera and Cullen who had offered her a greeting, Cullen seeming the most curious of the two.

 

“What is it?” Gwen's eyebrows pushed together.

 

“Can we talk, privately?” The detective asked awkwardly, crinkling the papers she held.

 

“Sure, Cassandra. We can go to my room.” Tilting her head in the direction of her room, Cullen watched the two.

 

Gwen led Cassandra to her room, shutting the door just as Cassandra was in the room.

 

“Please sit, Miss Allen.”

 

“Aren't we being formal now.” Guinevere didn't argue much more, sitting on her bed.

 

“This, this is very awkward for me, but let me start from the beginning.”

 

Guinevere raised her eyebrows, urging on the woman.

 

“I must apologize for my initial suspicion of you, and the confusion I helped cause you,” Cass started to pace, “ I am hoping, that we can start over or be-”

 

“Friends?” Guinevere finished, trying to prompt the Nevarran along.

 

“You might not want to, well, until you read this file.” Pushing the sealed folder at Gwen, hands quaking, “It's a peace offering. Well, a horrible peace offering.”

 

Guinevere's fingernails gathered the flexible metal prongs, unsure of what any sort of file had to do with her. Other than the trouble Cassandra had been directly involved in, no other trouble had been caused in her life.

 

“No, don't open it now. It's not good, Guinevere. But don't open it alone either. Or at all.” Cassandra couldn't decide on the answer, her attention momentarily being drawn outside the room as more guests arrived, “Obviously, I wasn't meant to give this to you. But you should know, when you are ready.”

 

“Cassandra?” Guinevere's voice was worried, this wasn't normal for the strong woman.

 

“I promise I haven't told another soul either.”

 

“Cassandra, this isn't like you.” In frustration Guinevere turned to joking, pulling a small smile from Cass.

 

“This is infuriating.”

 

Guinevere laughed, “I agree with you, but please. Open my present.”

 

This time it was Cass's turn to raise an eyebrow, taking the package softly from Guinevere. Just like Cullen's a white box had been wrapped, with much more grace than Cullen the box was given to Guinevere as she admired her new jacket.

 

“The stitching is reinforced, so it shouldn't be so easy to rip.” Guinevere prompted, as the detective didn't say a word.

 

Cassandra slipped on the jacket, flexing and turning from side to side to test how comfortable and the range of motion available from the jacket. With a smile Cass left the jacket on, “I think this will stay on.”

 

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

 

Cullen's gaze kept on Cassandra and Guinevere until they had disappeared from sight. He would regret this, but decided to grace Sera with a question.

 

“What do you think is happening?”

 

“Either kissing, or Gwenie is getting smacked. Scary innit?” The answer was a little better than he had expected.

 

Sera left him alone as the door buzzed again. He didn't listen to who it was, and he stretched to stick the last bit of snowflake garland. Moving from his position standing on the chair, he felt pride in the work he had done. Returning the chair from whence it came. Bull's voice boomed from the door.

 

“The Dorianator!”

 

“Fasta Vaas!” Dorian muttered after a moment too long, giving Bull ample time to assign a new nickname.

 

“Dorianatoooor.” Bull repeated proudly.

 

“Oafish, fashionless-” Dorian began to swear again.

 

“Make everyone know you want to see me naked.” Bull called loudly.

 

“Bull! Dorian!” Guinevere turned all the attention to her, running to both the Tevinter and Qunari like she had not seen them in weeks. Giving both a giant hug. She carefully avoided nestling into an ornament that hung from Bull's homemade Makermas sweater.

 

Cullen found Cassandra coming up behind her, sporting a new and well fitting jacket. “She made you something too?”

 

Cassandra nodded, “It's amazing.” Even referring to the box Bull was opening, and produced a golden eye-patch. Something he had to replace out immediately. “She's cares much about her friends.”

 

“Cass, what where you talking to her about?” Cullen had his reasons for being suspicious. She had intentionally, and unintentionally meddled before. Added with a spice of worry for his lady friend.

 

“It's private. But, I do need to ask you a favor.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Don't let her open what I gave her alone.”

 

“Wouldn't Sera, or Amelia be better for the emotional support? Voids, even Dorian?” He questioned.

 

“I would doubt that, but promise me.” Cassandra gave him a stern look.

 

“Yes, Cassandra.” Turning from the Nevarran to watch Guinevere place a soft kiss atop Rufus's head, as he stood unknowingly under the mistletoe. The lucky dog being left with red lipstick atop his skull. It was a mental note to avoid that area.

 

Cassandra left him alone, moving to chat with Bull about something related to their line of work. Dorian practically pranced into the kitchen, with a better look at the man Cullen felt his stomach drop. The poorly wrapped package was in the man's hand, his expression delighted as he trotted up to Guinevere. Smiling out of the corner of his mouth at Cullen.

 

“Oh, _Guineeevere!”_ The man sang, finishing the few steps to the red-head.

 

“ _Dooooriiian.”_ Guinevere sang back in reply. 

 

“Look at what I found h-, oh!” His sentence interrupted by Cullen ripping the packaging from his hand. Leaving him with but a corner of the green paper. “Well! Now you'll never get it.”

 

Blue-green eyes darted to him curiously. Thin fingers pushing back a curled bang, and continued to ghost along her french twist. Red lips pursed, curious, but unable to ask. Dorian folded his arms, tapping a foot.

 

“Just give it to her man, unless you would like to give me the credit.”

 

“Dorian.” Guinevere chided, taking her eyes from him.

 

Cullen roughly pushed it toward her hands, while she looked away. It fell with a clack to the floor, Cullen beat her to the ground. Sweeping up the package, but this time handing it to her gently. Guinevere batted eyelashes as him slowly, still not so sure she had permission.

 

“It's not much, but Mia said, Maker's Breath- just open it.” 

 

Reverently her hands worked over the green wrapping paper, Mia had offered to wrap it but Cullen had insisted. Even to the point of writing her name to the best of his ability on the sticker. It would never look perfect enough. The job he had done wrapping was shameful, but there she was taking it apart as if it was fragile. 

 

“Look, it's nothing compared to the jacket-” Cullen found himself interrupted, by a wetting pair of turquoise eyes.

 

“Thank you, Cullen.” Smiling widely into the book as she flipped through the recipes. Having none of her own family recipes to use. “Is this okay? This should stay with your family.” 

 

“No, Mia had mentioned that you had loved her cooking. She wanted you to have some recipes, well we did,” rubbing the back of his neck, “but there is cookie recipe in there she would have to kill you for revealing.”

 

Her beautiful eyes flickered between the laminated printer paper book, and his face. Finally she held the book close, holding it tight to her chest. Taking the step to close the distance between them. Time slowed, as it often did around her. Blue-green eyes questioned, unaware of the request he nodded. Her lips pressed softly against stubble. As quickly as she approached, she turned heel placing the book on the counter-space.

 

“Good man!” Dorian inserted, reminding both that he had been standing there the entire time.

 

Cullen left them, deciding to investigate what sounded like Alistair. Noting the Mabari carrying a towel in his mouth, on a mission toward the laundry room. With little other notice, he greeted Amelia and Alistair receiving a short stare from both of them. Leliana gave a soft giggle from behind Amelia, which he ignored. Chatting with them, but mostly listening as Alistair rambled off about their latest date. 

 

Amelia, and Leliana left Alistair and Cullen to talk as the subject shifted to the latest video game. But never one to be silent, Amelia thank Guinevere for her gift with much gusto. Causing Alistair to look in their direction, smiling mischievously as something connected dots. Alistair excused himself to find his lady's side once again. Leaving Cullen by himself, he moved to the couch. Able to watch the action in the kitchen. Alistair was now sporting a new button up shirt, the outside was respectable with blue and red checkers. The inside of the shirt was much louder, being patterned in wedges of cheese.

 

Alistair loved the shirt, deciding to wear it over the simple white shirt he wore. Leliana tried on a hooded scarf, quite pleased in her new accessory. 

 

Bull joined Cullen, sitting a little closer than the soldier liked. Seconds ticked by awkwardly, leaving Cullen uncomfortable.

 

“How long have you been in the service?” Bull started.

 

“Six years.” In wasn't the least awkward subject the Qunari could go with.

 

“I served for a couple of years myself. Until I found something else that paid more money.” 

 

“You left Par Vollen?” Taking the bait.

 

“Yes, didn't completely agree with the entire total war thing.”

 

“It must be hard to find work.”

 

“Yes, but I got lucky. Gwen is a pretty sweet boss, no mischief.” Bull said.

 

“Please, keep her out of trouble.”

 

“I intend to. So you and her?” Finally getting to the questions Bull had came for.

 

“Friends.” Cullen blushed, he probably knew, “Maybe.”

 

“Come on, man! Give it to her! The ladies like that confidence.” 

 

Cullen shook his head, why was this conversation happening? His eyes flickered to Amelia and Alistair who had found themselves under the mistletoe. Oblivious to the world around them, Rufus was the only audience at the moment. 

 

“Look, Cullen, I have seen your type before. I've seen a lot of good men come back from war different. Don't let that be you.” Bull paused, following Cullen's shifting gaze to a particular red-head, “She would be good for you.”

 

Cullen's gaze turned to the Qunari. “Why does everyone think they need to give me relationship advice?”

 

Bull shrugged. Josephine sat beside the Qunari on the couch, as Blackwall fetched drinks with an easy 'm'lady'. Josephine starred at his cheek long enough to cause his eyebrows to knit. 

 

“You have something- Never mind.” Deciding to ignore whatever was bothering her. Rather she started in on Bull about his latest trip to Val Royeaux.

 

Cullen let the conversation whirl around him, content to rest in a somewhat secluded area. From this angle he watched Guinevere hug Cole tightly, offering him a present like all the others. Cole slipped on his knitted hat, smiling brightly at Guinevere puling her into another platonic hug. Rufus found his way to Cullen, and after checking on his owner pattered back under the mistletoe earning another forehead kiss from Guinevere, and then Cole. 

 

In a rapid change of pace the crew in the kitchen started bringing out trays and bowls filled with food and drink. With a quick announcement, and the start of a Makermas play-list the party swung into life. The table was crowded in a instant, Guinevere stepped back into the kitchen likely to mess with lining up more food for the table. Cullen followed after placing his hands softly on her hips.

 

“Guinevere.”

 

“Oh! Cullen!” He had startled her, pressing just a little more firmly. 

 

“Have you eaten?” 

 

Guinevere gave him a soft sigh, “Obviously.”

 

“Today?”

 

She huffed, “I've been busy.”

 

“I know, but the party is started. Eat, with me. If you would like.”

 

“How could I not take that offer?”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Got sick, along with classes.

With one meat ball plopped down, he added another. With a slice of ham, the man added a carrot to her plate. Guinevere's kept eyebrows tilted in his direction, a wry smile slowly crossing her face. A thin finger plucked a head of broccoli, but not to betray her own movements she dropped the vegetable on her plate. According to his recent behaviors, he went search for something else to deposit on her plate. Finally, as his cheek turned the broccoli was lined up, and her shot taken.

 

To have Morrigan, last minute place herself in the space between the Soldier and the red-head. Unfortunately, the green vegetable found itself tumbling down the front of her open shirt. Golden eyes filled quickly with undiluted disgust.

 

Guinevere ducked her head, unable to face that expression for long. “I'm so sorry Morrigan, that wasn't meant to-”

 

Morrigan huffed at the muttered apology. Her head turning to deliver the same look to Cullen, how had an expression like a halla stuck in the headlights.

 

“Children.” She seethed, removing herself from the table with another humph. Amelia bolted after her friend, working to remedy the situation quickly.

 

“Ohhh, Gwen is in trouuuble.” Alistair taunted.

 

“Zap! Frog time!” Cullen quoted.

 

“Heeeeey~” Alistair whined.

 

In what little time it took Cullen to glance at Guinevere again, the female had escaped. Pouring herself some of the hot cocoa concoction resting on the kitchen island. Ready to start drinking for the night. Cullen tried to ignore it, by initiating some useless prattle with Alistair. Perhaps this entire relationship thing was not for the best, his mental issues plus being around a drinker could turn ugly.

 

Dinner went on quietly, as almost everyone ate in relative peace. Bull was prone to his moments of growing louder than everyone else in the room, but Dorian could match him when the Qunari began to prod at him. The most interesting thing he had spotted was a short interaction between Josephine and Thom. They had both slipped into the kitchen to get a drink, Thom in his attempts to give the Antivan a respectable berth, had found himself under the mistletoe. How the Antivian twittered as she kissed the man on the cheek. Thom tried to pull it off coolly, but strutted away. Leaving the brownish upper lip stain of lipstick on his cheek, well where it was not beard.

 

The table was cleared as the serving plates emptied. Wrapped candies, candy covered chocolates were placed in bowls on the table. Then, three plates of white cookies dipped in chocolate, peppermint, and some left plain where placed on the table. Bull was the first to take a cookie, “Boss! These are amazing!”

 

The Qunari took a plate. To have Josie of all people challenging him.

 

“No, you will not!”

 

“There are two more plates for you!”

 

Blackwall came to Josephine's side, “You better do as the Lady says, Bull.”

 

“You can get your own!”

 

The fight continued, while Cullen snuck one of his own from the two plates at the table. Selecting one with a chocolate dipped bottom. With one crisp, crunchy, but chewy at the bottom bite. The soldier would interject himself into the fight, drawing an even brighter blush from Guinevere. Who pretended not to watch.

 

With word unable to quell the argument, the plate of light cookies was placed as a winning pot.

 

A game of Wicked Grace would decide this bounty. Cullen finding himself pulled into the game, a last glance sent in Guinevere's direction, as she made up with Morrigan and Amelia in the kitchen. Enjoying another steaming glass of cocoa.

 

Josephine was a ruthless card player, as the candy and cookies acted as chips. Cullen found himself getting overly competitive and unable to guess anybody's tells, save Alistair. Alistair was the first to run out of candy, and his cookies. But still he played, placing his out shirt....then shirt upon the table. Cullen wasn't far behind him, as Dorian dropped out. Taking his share of cookies with him, finding himself too easily distracted by the men going shirtless. Well, with just the extra of Bull who had offered to take one of Alistair's losses for him.

 

“Cullen, your shirt please.” Josie chided softly.

 

Cullen gave the dark skinned woman a sigh, and felt his cheeks heating. Reaching his arms back he pulled the shirt over his head, careful to wriggle his head just so through the tight neck. He was honestly a little more annoyed with foolishly losing the cookies, than his shirt. It wasn't the first time he had been shirtless in a public setting.

 

Well, except this time it was around her.

 

Dorian whistled loudly from beside Guinevere. Causing his blushing face just to deepen as those blue-green eyes settled on his skin. Boastfully or not, he _enjoyed_ the way her eyes swept over his corded muscles, the way she was unable to look way until his eyes finally found purchase with hers. Guinevere forced herself to turn around, toying with something in the sink. With that Cullen found the bravery to excuse himself from the game, with the excuse of not losing all of his clothing. 

 

Cullen sauntered with purpose toward Guinevere, curious(and half showing off) to know how she had patched things over with Morrigan. Only a little of his purpose being to survey how much she had drank, and ate. Done with whatever thing she had found to amuse herself with in the sink, the female had turned on him. Not letting him have the upper hand.

 

“Not good luck?” She asked, smiling out of one corner of her mouth.

 

“No.” Deciding instead to feign a purpose, grabbing a ceramic cup.

 

“Hmm, well, can you keep a secret?”

 

“Yes?” Cullen asked, curious. Spooning out a first scoop of cocoa.

 

With a nod of her head, she slipped under the mistletoe. Cullen's heart stopped. It seemed like minutes as she messed with a falling nylon, underneath that bow and white berries. Her eyes roaming over the shelves in the laundry room, a finger pressed up to her lip. Time crashed back to normal as the ceramic mug left his grip, smashing against the floor. As hot liquid scattered over the floor with the green pieces.

 

Guinevere startled with a gasp, clutching tightly to the sealed container in her arms. 

 

Cullen gulped, crouching to shuffle all the pieces together. Within moments, he was offered a rag. Guinevere crouching in front of him to offer help, luckily smiling and not angry. Batting away his apology with a soft joke. It took the two little time to clean up the mess, Guinevere walked back under the mistletoe throwing the rag into a hamper.

 

His throat thickened again, should he do it? Or should he at least kiss her cheek? But why was she being so bold? Guinevere had hesitated, or almost ran from every touch that could have been considered romantic. Cullen found himself stalling, another man took his place proffering a small kiss against Guinevere's cheek, getting his own cheek kissed in return. Dorian smiled wryly at Cullen as he bounced by, showing off the red liptsick residue on his cheek.

 

Guinevere busied herself with pulling out a styrofoam cup, filling it with the liquid from the slow cooker. Offering it the cup to Cullen. “You won't break this cup.”

 

“Thank you.” He replied softly, inhaling the steam from the cocoa.

 

“More cookies are in here. Share them, if you like.” Patting the clear container, filled with more of the meringue cookies.

 

“You're amazing,” tone reverent. Finding himself meaning it for more than one reason; the cocoa having no liqueur in it.

 

“Joosssssiiie, Nooooo~” Alistair's loud whining flooded into the kitchen. Prompting Guinevere to near the dining room. 

 

“Those are my terms. Around the complex once, and then you may have your clothes back.” Josie insisted smugly. Her flushed features finally finding some reprieve.

 

“Think of the children!” Alistair pleaded.

 

“You better run quickly.” Amelia added.

 

With a patter of bare feet, and a flash of pale and freckled bum his roommate crashed down the stairs. Guinevere shared a window with Josie, giggling as Alistair's pale figure streaked by. The two starting a debate shortly after, Cullen decided it was time to visit the restroom. 

 

After he was finished, he took note of the Mabari pacing by him and slipping into the laundry room. Shaking his head at the dog, he moved on by without delivering a kiss. Chuckling as he found Alistair struggling to slip his clothes back on modestly or without a crowd. Receiving a well earned jab about his own shirtless state. It was still much better than being naked.

 

Josephine intercepted him on his way back to the dining room, where the others were loudly arguing the rules of the next game. Several bottles and shot glasses lining the table, even from the view he had.

 

“As agreed, you get your shirt back.” Josephine didn't seem terribly pleased. 

 

“Agreed?” Cullen questioned, “What is my punishment first?”

 

“Nothing,” Josie huffed, “Though I fully believe Guinevere is being foolish.”

 

“What did she promise you?” Cullen dared to question, forcing the subject to remain on something that would not keep him blushing.

 

“Good behavior.” The Antivan pointed a finger at the man, “Three months, or you will be hearing of this for a long time!” She threatened, with a hint of jest. 

 

“Good luck with that. I'm not sure it will work out for you.” Gripping his shirt tightly, glad to have all of his clothing returned. 

 

“You will hear about it if it does not?”

 

“I doubt I could convince her to listen.”

 

Josephine gave him a knowing look. His questioning look was ignored, as Josie slipped by. 

 

The party exploded around him, Guinevere almost constantly spun in a different direction. Content to stick with her cocoa, and not touching even the smallest drop of alcohol. Even though those around her constantly called for more. Sera was the first to disappear. Alistair was the first to pass out on the couch, Amelia bravely protected him after a little bit of teasing. Guinevere handed out the first blanket, and others followed as a movie was inserted. The group found itself fighting over the couch, with Morrigan noticeably absent, and blankets being passed out to the entire group. 

 

He tried to pay attention to the movie, but found himself watching Guinevere clean alone. Moving from his spot, he stalked into the kitchen.

 

“Do you want any help?”

 

“Don't worry about me- if the movie doesn't interest you I would like the company.” 

 

His back leaned against the wall, watching her clean the dishes.

 

“So, what are your plans for Makermas?” Being the first to offer out a subject.

 

“Just hanging out here with Sera. Cole has his family to be home with.”

 

The soldier just arrived at the conclusion that perhaps this was not the best subject to make conversation about. “If you want somewhere to be, Mia wouldn't mind if you came over.” Hardly believing the words that had slipped from his mouth.

 

“I shouldn't interrupt your family time.”

 

“Mia loves seeing you, it wo-”

 

“Cullen, please, no. I couldn't.”

 

“I'm sorry, but please let me help clean up.”

 

“If you wouldn't mind grabbing the ham for me.” 

 

Cullen hefted a heavy plate of ham to her counter. Following her instructions to the letter as he cut free the rest of the meat, and put it into another dish. “So, three months of good behavior?”

 

“I knew she would take the bait.”

 

“Didn't like what you were seeing?” Cullen teased, nudging her with his elbow. 

 

“No! I-” Guinevere gaze a huff, “Are you flirting with me, Mr. Rutherford?”

 

Cullen balked, “Me? Never.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“It was a horrible attempt wasn't it?”

 

Her blue-green eyes twinkled as she smiled, “No, it's cute.”

 

Cullen's blush deepened, he should have known better than to try and compete with her. As he kept working, the red-head chuckled beside him. Falling into easy silence beside him. Cullen was pleased to simply work beside her, able to observe her without others around to watch them. The silence of the apartment was much calmer than the noise of the party, only soft snoring could be heard in the kitchen. He finished craving the ham, moving on to the next plate.

 

“Cullen, thank you for helping me. Earlier, and now.”

 

“It's no trouble, really.”

 

Guinevere gave him a soft grin before she left his side, turning his stomach in knots. Rufus appeared at his side and Cullen pat the dog's head softly, shoving the large dog's head away so he could not start begging for food. A battle Cullen knew that he would end up losing. Guinevere shuffled around the dog who had just left, first hearing Guinevere make contact with the dog. Followed by the crash of glass, Rufus scattered passed the living room into the hallway leading to more rooms.

 

“Cullen, could you hand me a rag?”

 

Cullen couldn't immediately see a rag, or paper towels for that matter.

 

“I'm sorry about Rufus, he usually doesn't do that.” Muttering his apology, before advancing to a question, “where are they?”

 

“To your right, that small drawer on top.”

 

“There's nothing here?”

 

“Nothing? Seriously?” Guinevere muttered to herself, stepping carefully over the glass. Investigating the sink area with Cullen, huffing when a clothe did not appear.

 

The woman whirled from his side again, looking into the laundry room. Her cheeks tinting red, with a half mischievous expression she pressed her fingers to her lips. Guinevere's entire face lit red as she slipped underneath the laundry-room doorway. This time realizing what she was crossing over a line, in perhaps her eyes two. Cullen found himself back in a mix of chuckling and blushing. 

 

Indecision made his limbs heavy, everyone was asleep but still he could not muster up the courage. Even to simply kiss her cheek in return, she had done so, so what was stopping him. His throat thickened in the idea, but his pulse quickened urging him to move, to do something other than just watch Guinevere.

 

“Somebody put all my clean rags underneath the dirty ones!” Guinevere called out in dismay, forced to crouch to sift through the pile.

 

“I'll get the broom.”

 

“It's in here, Cullen, let me pass it to you!”

 

Cullen now with purpose strode to the laundry-room, leaning against the far side of the frame while she fished it out of the rags she had managed to cover it with. Poking out from the room, she offered the broom. With a faint jingle of tags, Cullen found himself colliding against Guinevere. A forearm bracing a mere inch above her head. His right leg extended forward, hiding in her red skirt. The lady under him crossed her arms to guard her face, quick to find the danger gone her arms lowered. Chuckling softly as she tried hiding her face by peering into the small room.

 

“Heh, well-,” Guinevere began, but couldn't find the words to end. 

 

Cullen froze, his thoughts blurred but his nerves were kept in place. It was too easy now; the faint sent of jasmine on her skin, the hint of mint from a girly shampoo wafted from rich red hair. Fingers brushed with warm jolts on the outside of his thigh, fingers curling lightly afraid to grip but wanting to clutch  _him_ closer. Guinevere's warm breath hitched, and swallowed behind her plump lips. Turquoise eyes slowly faded, those fingers leaving his outer thigh to push against his inner thigh. Wishing for release, release that would not be granted. His rough fingers graced down her smooth cheek, breath exhaling in between the quivering of her lips. The pad of his thumb traced over her bottom lips, eyes half lidded dared to look in his direction. Uncertain. 

 

Her fingers pressed against his thigh again, feeling her jaw clench underneath her cheek. It wouldn't be long now, and Guinevere wouldn't have to doubt. Cullen wasn't good at showing what he felt, it wasn't in his programming. Being a soldier left little room for emotions, and less time for intimacy. At the time others began forming long lasting relationships, he found war. Death. Nothing soft, and vibrant. Nothing close to Guinevere. She was soft, tender...healing.

 

With all of the confidence of a young boy kissing his first crush, Cullen leaned in. Gently drawing her lips against his. A chaste kiss delivered as he drew back.

 

Guinevere gave a soft whining moan, her hands suddenly pushing against the frame. Arms propelling her forward, toward the promise of his lips. As quickly as she had moved forward, she released slumping against the doorway. Eyes threatened tears as her gaze roamed into the room, excluding tears this was the reaction Cullen awaited. Permission, and want bundled into one reaction. 

 

With a turn of her cheek, guided by his hand, his lips crashed into her's once again. Fingers urging her jaw forward, her fingers laced into his hair pulling her body flush. The hand no longer needing to hold her jaw pressed against the small of her back, it wasn't possible to bring her closer- but the effort was worth it. Her lips drew him in deeper, her hips rocking against the thigh pressed between her legs. Soft and small lips pulled his bottom lip, grazing it ever so lightly with her teeth. His other hand hefting her light body higher, her small hands worked into blonde hair. The hand ran down to her thigh, running his hands up the nylon until his fingers felt her skin. Drawing a gasp from Guinevere, pulling her lips from him.

 

It was for the best. 

 

Cullen was the first to speak, “Well, what were we doing?”

 

“I'm not sure.” 

 

A finger curling around one of his locks, pulling away as his gaze lingered. Her mouth opened, then closed opting to keep her mouth closed. Cullen eased her down, fetching the broom. Guinevere grabbing the first rag she could find.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning- Gets a bit NSFW-ish toward the end.
> 
> Sorry, it took so long. Got sick twice. 
> 
> Ugh.

Cullen found himself slung over the armchair is Mia's living room. Scrolling through his Blightbook news feed. About everyone had the same words in mind, it was Makermas after all. Everyone was posting to families, and a few even took pictures of the bounty they had received that day. It was horrible to admit, even to himself that he found himself delving into his phone more often to find one certain picture.

 

Cullen should have realized it then, but the break glass had woken up the entire party.

 

They had waited an entire day before posting the picture of them kissing. The picture taken while his hand was impurely crawling up her skirts. How Guinevere begged for them to remove the picture, causing Cullen enough grief to not want to text or contact her.

 

Did she regret the kiss? Well, that was partially foolish. He knew fully well that Guinevere wasn't going to bother him, unless he started a conversation first. But the way she begged Sera to remove that picture. It must have bothered her.

 

With a sigh, he touched the picture a last time. Noticing a new notification popping across his screen

>  
> 
> _**Mia Johanson (Rutherford) liked a picture you were tagged in.** _

 

“Maker's breath.” Cullen muttered to himself.

 

“Oh, Cullen!” Mia sounded out happily, drawing a suspicious look from her husband. But he knew better, and started ignoring both of them at this point. It was easier to not get involved.

 

“Mia?”

 

“What have you not been telling me!”

 

“What could you mean, dear sister?” The red of his face easily gave it away.

 

“Don't you dear sister me! You go kissing a girl, and don't bother telling me!”

 

“It was on Blightbook forever ago.” Cullen mentioned, whimsically.

 

“You know how much-” Mia started, then sighed, “Are you two dating? Talking about dating?”

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Cullen didn't answer, glancing back at his phone. On a safe screen about sports scores.

 

“Cullen Stanton Rutherford!” Mia charged, “I thought, I thought you were better than this. Ignoring that poor girl. Not even, even.”

 

Mia went silent, conducting some sort of plan Cullen would eventually come to regret.

 

“Is that girl alone for Makermas?”

 

“She mentioned having plans with Sera, last I knew.”

 

“Did you even invite her over?”

 

“Yes, Mia. Guinevere didn't want to be a bother.”

 

“Gwen! I want to see Gwen!” Natalie announced, being summoned by any mention of Guinevere. Nat had loved Cullen's jacket, and once she had found out Guinevere had made it, nothing else was on the girl's mind.

 

“Well, we'll have to visit then.” Mia decided.

 

“Mia-” Cullen tried to protest, but already Nat was headed for the door. Brown curls vibrating in her excitement.

 

\- - - - - -

 

> **Cullen** : I'm sorry.

 

The text had arrived as Guinevere had already found herself shuffling for the buzzer. With a soft sigh, she pressed the button.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Merry Makermas, Guinevere!” Rang out Mia's familiar voice, mixed with that of her daughter's. “We have just come by to say hello. Can we come in?”

 

“Sure, wait for the buzz.”

 

_Shit._

 

Of course Guinevere had lied about Sera being with her on Makermas. Sera always had her own plans of causing trouble- in Sera's own anarchist way. Gwen figured it was easier to just not know what Sera was up to. She was invited every year to partake, but after the first time ending in being pursued by the police Guinevere never wanted to go again. So, every Makermas she had made up her own tradition. With no make-up and no bra, she would watch Rudolph the Red-nosed Halla. The old version with crappy clay-mation. Sometimes watching it several times, not that anyone minded, it was always something done alone. This year she had managed to gather supplies for more hot cocoa. Mentally noting to do this from here on out.

 

Clutching her arms securely over her chest, she waited for the knock on her door. Loosening one hand from her binding, the door was pulled open. Revealing three surprise guests, Jon, Rufus and Cullen. Jon gave a pitying expression, Rufus bounced excitedly, and Cullen looked away with a faint blush. She was far less dressed than she would have liked. In a large knitted shirt several sizes too big, and Rudolph the red-nosed halla leggings. Hair left down, and little more than a brush was done to it.

 

“Hello.” Was all Guinevere managed.

 

“We don't mean to interrupt, if you are busy.”

 

“No, it's fine. I wasn't busy anyway.” Gwen's gaze flickered away from Cullen's. Knowing that her lie had been caught.

 

“I'm glad we came! It's not fair to be alone on Makermas!” Mia throwing the accusing tone at Cullen.

 

With an escaped chuckle, Guinevere allowed them in. “I made cocoa if you want any.”

 

“That sounds amazing!” Mia agreed for the males.

 

Natalie was the first to burst into the apartment, running up to hug Guinevere's legs excitedly. “Can you make me a dress? Like the pretty ones on your show?”

 

“Nat!” Mia and Jon reprimanded in unison.

 

The girl just pouted, not quite giving up on the idea of a dress. But Gwen was more than fine with the idea. “I-I, actually could. I have enough material, and measuring wouldn't take long.”

 

Natalie's eyes grew bigger, looking to her mother. Mia huffed a little, “No, we're intruding as it is.”

 

“Please, Mom.” Nat begged.

 

“It's really no trouble. I like knowing I have fans.” Gwen offered meekly. Finding it an excuse for a few moments to gather herself back together. “It'll only take me a couple of minutes, have some cocoa while you wait.”

 

“Good behavior, Natalie Ann.” Jon cautioned, giving them both permission.

 

Guinevere extended her hand for the child, leading her into her room.

 

\- - - - - -

 

“Cullen Stanton Rutherford!” Mia threatened once again, as Guinevere left the room. Socking her brother lightly on the shoulder, “Alone? On Makermas?”

 

“I didn't know, she lied to-” Cullen tried to defend himself.

 

“Oh, my stupid, stupid brother.” Mia lamented. Dramatically pouring the brown liquid from the slow cooker into a mug.

 

“Mia, maybe-” But Jon got less of anywhere with his headstrong wife.

 

\- - - - - -

 

“So, what colors do you like?” Guinevere asked, the numbers jotted down into a small book.

 

“Purple! And green!” Natalie responded, and continued to detail her dream dress. Guinevere would do what she could, but this kid had amusing tastes. Wanting to be princess and warrior in one dress. It wasn't impossible, it was just an odd request. With another chuckle she herded the girl from her room, tempting Natalie with cocoa.

 

The three were still around the crockpot. It was silent for the moment. Guinevere was unsure how to approach, Cullen's gaze so easily bore into her. It was almost embarrassing. Standing in the spot so close to where they had once kissed, but he had obviously no intention of things moving forward. Once again feeling like she was on the back burner.

 

Mia started with small talk, keeping the atmosphere a little lighter. Mia tried pulling Cullen into the conversation, but his answers were usually curt.

 

“Mom! Rudolph!” Natalie running back to the kitchen from her exploration with Rufus, “Can we please watch Rudolph Gwen. Plllease.”

 

Mia looked to Guinevere, “I don't think so honey. She's probably watched most of it.”

 

Gwen hardly believed the next words to come out of her mouth, “I-if you want to. I've only watched the first twenty minutes.” _Please stay._

 

“Oh please Mom. She said yes!”

 

Cullen was the one to give her a questioning look. Which Guinevere avoided his accusing honey eyes.

 

With a sigh, Mia agreed. Guinevere actually felt a little glad, despite how awkward the company was. It was enjoyable. Maybe this was what a family was like. Not being alone on this holiday was something she wanted, just could never find the bravery to ask someone to spend time with her. Everyone seemed to have someone to be with. Even if it was just for a movie.

 

A refill of cocoa, and plopping onto the edge of the couch later. The movie was ready. Cullen had shuffled behind the rest, thinking it might get him a spot away from Guinevere. But it didn't, with a look that spoke words to even the young Natalie she knew better than to take the one spot beside Guinevere. With an awkward humpf, Cullen sat beside Guinevere. The female tucking her body into a ball as the movie started.

 

In a move Gwen had devised, the room was dark save for the light of the television. Her heart fluttered, and eyes grew watery. Not out of sadness, but elation. They weren't willing participants in her farce of a pretend family, but it almost felt the same. They didn't speak, but the unity of watching such a childish Makermas movie was enough. Was this what it felt like? But Gwen could only imagine that it felt better. An uninvited hot sliver of water ran down her cheek. The person next to her shuffled, and hesitated as his arm was unsure where to move.

 

Slowly, her eyes dared to look at him. His gaze intense, but softening. With a shake of her head, she tried to assuage the man. Cullen didn't relent sliding his hand lightly over the woman's shoulders. Another questioning look shot in his direction was answered with a smile out of the corner of his mouth. Permission granted. Guinevere melted into his arms, letting the warmth consume her. The movie, and everything else lulled into darkness and warmth.

 

\- - - - - -

 

Guinevere awoke with quite a start, gradually in her sleep the weight over her body had began to increase. Any adjustments made mid-sleep became difficult, if possible at all. This drew her from a fitful world of sleep, combined the growing ache of her neck. It pressed angrily against the hard edge of the couches arm. In a first attempt to move, she found her right arm trapped. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, a large shape above her own came into focus. The shape groaned, a hand sliding across the cartoon halla figures running down her legs.

 

“Cullen?” Guinevere spoke softly, trying to wriggle her arm out from under his weight.

 

“Guinevere? Wait...where-”

 

“I'm guessing they left.”

 

Cullen pulled himself upright with a huff. Rubbing his eyes, and glancing around the empty apartment with a half scowl. The clock read 2:34 in the morning. Gwen stretched out to snatch up her phone, quick to pull her knees back into her chest.

 

“I can call you a cab.”

 

Cullen's gaze softened as his head turned to look at her. “Look, Guinevere, before you do.”

 

Cullen paused, and Guinevere busied herself with searching for a cab company. The man couldn't find the words, and Gwen didn't know what to say to prompt him. It was foolish, assuming that the kiss had meant anything. It was mistletoe, and Gwen didn't pay attention to how much liquor he was consuming. An entire agonizing minute had ticked by without a response.

 

“Cullen, my party...it didn't have to mean anything.” Guinevere moved first, and perhaps too quickly.

 

“That's not what I mean, or want.” He murmured, rubbing at the back of his neck.

 

“By the way you've constantly not spoken to-”

 

“Guinevere, you haven't, and I don't want to-.”

 

Guinevere gave a heavy sigh. Every word just added to her foolishness, this simple crush was ruining her. She had precious little time to have friends as she did, let alone enough to keep any lovers around. She had spent too much time thinking about him, obsessing over each interaction... And bit of inattention she was given.

 

“I can't say I haven't wondered what it would be like.”

 

“What's stopping you?”

 

“You're busy, it could ruin our.... I feel comfortable around you. I don't want to lose that. And as you know, I'm not right for this sort of thing, or you.”

 

“You make some valid points,” Guinevere admitted, “but not talking to me. I don't like that.”

 

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't do that.” Cullen spoke with a small smile.

 

Guinevere playfully elbowed him in the side, drawing a soft laugh from the man.

 

“I don't want to, well, I would like to try.” Guinevere fumbled for words this time. “If you would, or even care about me.” She hated to draw away from the comfort of a playful moment.

 

“I do. Please, don't doubt that. Maker's breath. I have, haven't I?”

 

“More than once.” She admitted.

 

“I should fix that.”

 

Guinevere shot him a confused look, but thought better of it looking in the other direction. Cullen shuffled beside her, finding her cheek being swept away by a warm hand. His face advanced, angling toward her. In an easy response her eyes fluttered closed, finding them opening again to grunt at him with mild annoyance. With a token of permission granted, his lips cascaded against hers. This kiss wasn't as heated and rushed as the first, taking their time against the feel of the others lips. Calloused hands grazed over the thin fabric of her leggings, delightful shock waves followed his touch. Her legs easily were guided on the couch, and under his large frame. Towering over her smaller figure.

 

Guinevere was the first to slide her tongue against his bottom lip, probing against the barrier. A hand abandoned her leg to grasp at the base of her skull, pulling her in closer. Her fingers already played in soft curls, a curious finger moving to trace the ridge of his upper ear. His mouth parting, but took over with an easy dominance. Gwen found herself humming in approval as his hand wandered further upwards, teasing against the sensitive skin of her belly. Subconsciously her hips jerked against his hand, smirking into the kiss his other hand joined the assault. Slipping further under the large knitted sweater, following the lines of her soft curves.

 

Cullen earned a soft moan, skin goose-bumping under his touch. In a move seeking air, and further progression her teeth brushed his bottom lip. Continuing her progress along his jaw, and against the beating skin of his neck. His hips ground into her thigh, a telling thickness grew harder with every sweep and grind into her trapped legs. Brave hands, bravely cupping the swell of her breasts. Finding no cloth covering her breasts hardly stopped his progress. Swirling, and tenderly gripping the tissue in his hands. His left thumb guiding an erect nipple gently in circles. Gwen's teeth grazed his earlobe, a moan causing Cullen's hips to buck against her core. The fabric of his jeans pushed roughly against the thin elastic cloth of her leggings.

 

“Cullen, I don't think we should-”

 

Cullen immediately stopped, his hands left her breasts. Both breathing heavily, neither wanted to really stop.

 

“You're right. We should, I would like to...umm, take you.”

 

“Are you asking me out on a date, Mr. Rutherford?”

 

“Yes, before we end up-.”

 

“Well, I need three dates for that!”

 

Cullen chuckled against her neck, “Is that so?”

 

“If you can handle me, I am quite high maintenance!”

 

“I would enjoy a challenge.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it took a while.

The butterflies twirling in her stomach was something new. Gwen well aware that the man was on his way, but impatience flooded her actions. Daring to trudge through Sera's room so she could watch for his car to arrive. Jumping at every single black car that hurried passed her complex. With every car that was not Cullen's, the red-head sighed. He wasn't late, she was just excited.

After a few hopeless minutes of car watching, Gwen moved back to her mirror. Fretting a she pushed a lump of curls from her shoulder, and moving the ones that had pulled inside of the cowl-necked hoody she wore. The three shades of green fought each other in patches over the garment, but without looking like camouflage. The hoody covered sky toned skinny jeans, over just under the knee by grey-white boot socks, and finally tucked into brown boots. Functional ones, as they were going on some sort of hike.

The weather had finally moved above the negative degrees, but she was not completely sure of this idea. So in her bag of holding, turned back-pack she brought extra supplies. Hand warms for warmth, some extra gauze, and allergy pills. Guinevere could never be outside for long without needing those. As she dabbed on the last little bits of lip gloss, the door buzzed. With the bathroom light and door still open, she tore from the room. Reaching the call button a touch breathless.

“I'll be right down!”

“Don't you want me to escort you down the steps? I am attempting to be a good date.”

“Cute, Cullen.”

Without any other delays, Guinevere hurried down the stairs. Often taking two at a time to speed up the journey. Cheeks reddening under the strain, but it did not stop her from springing through the door. A wide smile sent in Cullen's direction. Wordlessly he enveloped the woman in a tight hug, chuckling over the evident enthusiasm Guinevere was exerting.

“So, where are we going?” Gwen asked.

“Well, get in my car. And you shall see.”

Guinevere raised her eyebrows, twirling away from him. Pride not allowing her to skip to his vehicle. His longer strides made it to car in time to hold open the door, his own smile widened at her now beaming grin. “Very nice, Mr. Rutherford.”

“For you, my lady.” Even bowing in the ruse.

“It's about an hour away, and the hike is about fifteen minutes long,” Cullen began, buckling himself into the driver's seat, “It's an easy trail.”

“So, a fifteen minute hike.” Gwen teased.

“There's more, Maker's Breath. Someone is excited.”

“Hush.” Guinevere added defiantly.

With another chuckle Cullen started the engine, pulling out of the parking lot and into the street. Guinevere sat silently until Cullen began to exit the city, growing more excited as he took an exit she did not recognize. To be honest, any exit he took would be exciting. Her normal mode of transportation was airplane, so driving anywhere was different. It kept the car silent until they were well out of Denerim.

“If you want to play your weird music, I would not mind.”

“Oh my! What an opportunity!” Knowing fully well that Cullen did not agree with most of her music, she grabbed the auxiliary cord. Taking her chance. With an expression brimming with mischief, the music was kept paused until the just right song was selected.

“ _I'm a killer,_

_Cold and wrathful._

_Silent Sleeper,_

_I've been inside your bedroom._ ”

Guinevere had caught Cullen tilting his head at the words.

“ _I've murdered half the town,_

_Left you love notes on their headstones._

_I'll fill the graveyards,_

_Until I have you._ ”

His eyebrow had raised through the first sentence. Currently, Cullen was shaking his head.

“How about your other, weird music?”

“Like?”

Cullen faltered at the words, “you know the one.”

“I don't, Cullen.”

“Something about never saying goodbye, and it's techno stuff.” Cullen was turning red, holding back on what lyrics he would dare speak.

“Well, half my play-list down. We'll just have to listen to Ludo.” Guinevere knew what song he wanted, but playing stupid was more amusing.

“It's a weird mood, for-,” Cullen fretted, taking his eyes from the road to plead silently to Guinevere. But rather than finding a truly perplexed face, she looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. “You're teasing me, again.”

“No, no I am not.”

“Fine- something about about a beautiful girl. Pretty as a girl can be. Every morning I wake up with a smile on my face?” Cullen's skin tinted a darker red at each word. “Please, are we done teasing?”

Guinevere chuckled. “Basshunter, Every Morning. I put it on your phone.”

Cullen finally relaxed as the song started, taping his fingers to the beat. Gwen swore the man mouthed the words, but speculating about it out loud would be too embarrassing. With a soft sigh, the car ride was spent looking out the window. More than happy to look out over the rolling hills, free of tall buildings.

The car pulled into a parking lot of a small cabin, down a long side road. It was abandoned, and the graying lady in the building only paid them mild attention. Waving them along, and not bothering to check the couple for a pass.

With a tilt of his head, Cullen lead Gwen up the path. Leading them, mostly successfully through the path with the least mud and ice. Cullen took an easy lead.

“Amelia says you have been slacking, I do not agree.”

“So kind, Mr. Rutherford,” she smiled, “I will have you know I have increased my benching weight by thirty pounds!”

“Making that a total of?” Cullen questioned.

“Nothing as impressive as you would manage, I am sure.” Not allowing him to even tease her about the minuscule amount of muscle she had developed. Guinevere was happy with in, and that was enough. “Though, I am sure I could trip now and feel safe in the knowledge that you could carry be gallantly to where ever it is we are hiking.”

“Is that a request?”

Guinevere gave the man's questioning look a smug smile, “Oh no, you must work harder than that.”

“What will satisfy?”

“I haven't decided,” poking out her tongue.

With a chuckle, Cullen resumed the climb. As promised, the hike lasted scarcely fifteen minutes. But before Cullen would let her rest, he had a request.

“Close your eyes, please.”

Her arms folded reflexively, but nodded, finally closing her eyes with a last peep. After a moment of her eyes remaining closed, Cullen swept in behind. A warm hand covered her eyes, and the other guided her by the hip. The man had not meant this to be a grand reveal, but rather did it out of nerves. He was quite nervous over not impressing his date, nothing but the best was allowed. Even though he had help, his fears still ran wild.

Carefully, she was guided to the ground pleased to find her rump graced with a pillow, and what felt like a blanket covering it. Cullen left her side, but she was instructed to keep her eyes shut. Gwen wasn't good at guessing what all of his shuffling around could mean. He heard a container slam shut, but that was all she could gather.

“Uh, you can open them now.”

Slowly she looked around the camp, first her eyes followed the blanket she had been placed on. Behind her was the log people would usually sit on, but it had pillows propped up against it. So that they could lean back. A too large cooler sat by the yet unlit fire, and Cullen stood awkwardly with his hands behind his back.

“This is nice.”

“You, you like it?"

“It is a little dark.”

“Ah, that.”

But he man stood in place, shifting his weight to the other side. Guinevere didn't need to see his face to know what color it was turning. With a soft sigh, she busied herself with brushing off the blanket. In short order, her tormenting worked as Cullen inched forward.

“What is behind your back?”

“Maker's Breath! Can you please look away!”

“Cullen?” Guinevere pleaded.

“Please!”

“Fine!” with a huff, her head turned. Glancing into the open sky behind her, she was sure she had yet to see this many stars. The progression of the night could only enhance the view. Before her eyes could fully admire the moon, her attention was drawn back to Cullen.

“Now, for the fire!,” he announced, producing a small flintstone.

He busied himself with a pre-collected pile of kindling, and stacked small logs in a triangle above it. Striking what she assumed to be a knife against the stone. It was a new process to her, and one that drew much curiosity. More perhaps if she was not observing the rounded, yet firm sculpture of his hindquarters. It was lecherous to look, but it couldn't be avoided. A patch of skin so delicately exposed, but decently as to not show a crack.

“Where did you learn that?” Guinevere questioned, pulling herself from _just_ staring.

“Dalish Scouts,” Cullen answered, craning his neck to make eye contact, “I was in Scouts for years. I even got an Eagle award.”

“Did you camp often?”

“Yes, very. I think my parents wanted me out of the house. And wanted me to make friends with more than my siblings.”

“You must have been a cute kid, I don't think you would have problems finding friends.”

“Are you teasing me?”

“Oh, hush,” she chided, “I meant that as a compliment.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, you are very handsome.”

Cullen replied by chocking on his laughter, drawing the usually bold Guinevere into looking away in shame. Teeth clamping down into the flesh of the bottom lip. With an effort to change the mood, Cullen cleared his throat. Thumping down beside Guinevere, with the cooler at his side. A modest offering of cheese, meats, and crackers.

“So, how did all of this get here?”

“My aunt was the lady in the building. I goaded her, along with Mia into helping me set this up.”

“Ahh.”

Next to be pulled from the cooler was a bottle of sweet Champagne, and plastic flutes.

“I hope you don't mind a sweet Champagne, I don't much like the dry stuff. And please enjoy the ever elegant crystals,” speaking lightheartedly, “I suppose this is a far cry from what you are used to.”

“Yes,” she started slowly, recoiling from what was perceived as brusqueness, “but I have never had any do anything like this for me. I am not a snob.”

“That was unworthy of me,” sounding apologetic, “I'm worried about impressing you, and I'm honestly no goo-”

“Cullen, please, I really appreciate it. I've honestly never seen a real fire, like this, up close.”

“Never?,” he questioned softly.

“No. I've never camped, or really been in the wilderness either.”

“Perhaps, I should take you. If you can stand the dirt.”

“Oh, I'd manage!”

Cullen nudged her elbow with his own quickly ending the argument. Pouring them each a flute full of the bubbly drink, Cullen waiting on Guinevere to take the first sip. She did not react, and he felt it was safe. They ate in relative silence, Guinevere was quite enraptured with the fire. Cullen was more than content to watch the firelight flicker across her face, it even earned him a few small smiles.

“Oh! I almost forgot- The grandest fire tradition of them all! Smores.”

Guinevere raised a curious eyebrow. She knew the idea, but had not yet the chance to try one. With a little jig in his step, the soldier grabbed for the sticks resting against the log. Handing one over to Guinevere, with a little instruction. Ever so cautiously, she was left alone with a marshmallow at the end of the stick. Cullen hadn't thought to watch her progress as he readied the chocolate and graham crackers on a paper plate.

“Cullen! It's burning!”

“Just take it out.”

“It's still burning!”

“Blow it out.”

With a puff of air, Guinevere went silent.

“Bring it over here, and I can-” he went silent as the crispy marshmallow slid into his view, “you burnt it. We can try again.”

“No, it is mine, and I want it.”

“You sure?”

“Perfectly.”

Without much else to do, he helped her assemble the smore. Chuckling at her expense as she studied it carefully, unsure of how to eat it delicately.

“Big bite.”

“Ugh.”

With a cross look, then sudden determination her jaws opened to clamp down on a large piece.

“Yummy.”

Cullen left Guinevere to finish her treat, his own toasting to a golden perfection. Putting the stick down, he noticed the female had stopped eating.

“Something wrong?” Allowing himself to take a bite of the smore.

“It's cold in the middle,” she said dourly.

“Have mine.”

“I couldn't!”

“I insist!”

“If you must.” It was all for show, gladly receiving his much better prepared treat. Even if it did mean sharing some of his germs. But to her dismay, he simply swiped up the treat she had not finished. Bravely finishing the cold treat.

Satisfied, Guinevere settled against the log, taking a slow sip from the plastic flute. Eyeing Cullen, who seemed pleased to stay in place. With a flick of her head, she invited him beside. To some surprise. He was slow, and overly cautious sliding beside her. With some impatience, she leaned into his side. Batting her eyebrows at the man, but would be dare do more?

“I am truly sorry, these dates just tend to,”speaking as his arm snaking between her arm and back, “make me uneasy.”

“You do well enough when prompted,” further burying herself into his side.

“Then please, keep prompting me.” Cullen chuckled, placing his forehead against hers. But left it there, content to draw in her sent.

\- - - - - -

The car ride home was short, and Guinevere content. She was pleased to be in a warmer place, though it did not have quite the same pleasant smell as her human furnace. He was quite, but looked content. Still nervously throwing a few glances in her direction. Each was answered with a small smile, and awkward small talk.

With some argument, Cullen insisted that he open the door for her once again. Rather than parking, he pulled up close to the building. Using the excuse of keeping her safe. The man bowed as the door opened, grinning at her widely.

“Will you close your eyes, again?”

“Cullen? Again?” Guinevere whined, but with a smile.

“Please.”

“Anything for you.”

Closing her eyes, and allowing the man to lead him to the door. Leaving her with eyes closed in the cold night air. Cullen opened and shut another door, jogging up to her with a rustle.

“Open them now!”

Guinevere did. Smiling widely as she was presented with an orange bouquet of cone-flowers. Which were her favorite. Carefully the package was swiped from the man, taking the package into her arms. Giggling softly in her delight. Looking slowly up at Cullen, grinning brightly.

“They're lovely Cullen! Was this what you were hiding?”

The man shuffled, rubbing at the back of his head.

“Well, I would kiss you if it would not ruin these flowers.”

“Fair enough.”

“Cullen, wait!”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story does begin to hit some triggering content at this point. After Gwen finds out about her family- I do mention sexual abuse, and that involving the abuse of a minor. I won't go into graphic detail. but it is implied. I'm also putting a mature rating on this piece after this chapter. As things will heat up.

Guinevere typed furiously on her phone, as Amelia pulled at the hem of her dress. Frowning at her meek appearance in the mirror. Amelia was the sole reason why the two were late, and this time, it wasn't the usually vanity ridden redhead. It was the nervous banker/personal trainer in training slowing them down. Guinevere's eyes snapped to the woman again as her hand weaved through wavy blond hair.

“Stop worrying about it, Amelia,” speaking soothingly, “the lace softens your features, and your hair is just divine.”

Amelia turned her deep brown eyes to Guinevere, her face telling of jealousy. 

“I'm not meant to be this feminine,” Amelia retorted.

“No, you look great. Feminine is fine in small doses, isn't it?” Gwen prodded.

Amelia wore a just above knee-length dress, white lace overlaid a soft pink under layer. The two pieces of the press met around her chest, where the bottom flowed out and the top tapered in. Wide straps offsetting her wider shoulders. But to further distract from that, a chunky white stone necklaceadded to her look. Paired with a matching set of white stone earrings. The brown leather heels, that would make the woman tower Alistair by an inch or so, gave the ensemble a relaxed look. 

Amelia sighed, adjusting the necklace again. Not quite convinced.

“Tell me one thing you like about it,” urged Guinevere. 

“Alistair's jaw will hit the floor,” Amelia concluded confidently.

“If we make it.”

\- - - - - -

Gwen ushered in a nervous Amelia, drawing a rare blush from the female. Amelia was the first one to draw wind of his Lover's Day event provided by the University's Culinary department. It was mentioned on a whim, but Guinevere was the one to spearhead the idea. It was another excuse for a date with Cullen. Amelia invited herself on the date, but with good reason- it was also a wine and cheese sampling event. Something Alistair and Amelia were keen on participating with. 

To the dismay or one, and joy of the other the men not yet present. 

But they were not the only ones late, as still a quarter of the tables had not yet filled. The instructors for the class waived off their apologies, some of the assistants were also late. A bad accident on the freeway.

Amelia immediately fretted, “No, my Alibear. I can see him distracting Cullen, and then-”

Guinevere was startled by the sudden emotional output of the blond. Usually, she was the one jumping to conclusions. Her head tilted, fishing out her phone to check the details of the crash. Her phone was flashing with a new message, Cullen.

“Amelia, Cullen just text me. They'll be here soon. Why the worrying?”

Amelia blushed softly, “It's stupid, and has me all worked up.”

“It must be big.”

Amelia rolled her eyes and touched her elbows against the table sighing heavily.

“Spit it out,” Guinevere teased.

“We might do it tonight.”

“You haven't yet?” Guinevere knew she had no place to say that, as her own relationship had yet to progress to that.

“He's still a...”

“Virgin?”

“I don't want to force him, and I want it to be special.”

“You must be in deep,” mirthful tone continued.

“You're no help!” tenderly swatting the redhead beside her.

“Well, you are making me be you. I haven't slapped enough punching bags to fill that quota yet.”

Amelia regarded her closely but ended up chuckling. “Do I sound like that?”

“Close, but more technical,” grinning micheviously, “What would you tell me?”

“It's not consent if he's drunk?”

Gwen gave Amelia the thumbs up, chuckling in turn at her friend. Amelia started to ask about Cullen, but was hushed by the men rushing into the room.

As much as Guinevere would have liked to think differently, her eyes turned immediately to Alistair. He wore a white button up, adorned with black suspenders and a bow tie in loose fitting matching slacks. Shoes neatly polished, and hair carefully coiffed. It wasn't the large bear and box of chocolates that drew her attention, but the rapturous way his eyes engulfed Amelia. His goofy, and sideways grin enveloped his lady in awe. He paused, jaw falling for the first few moments. If it were not for Cullen pushing him forward, he would have stayed happily in his spot. Alistair was the first to cross the room, and to arrive at the table.

“Amelia! You look beautiful! ”drawing the attention of the room with his volume, “Gwen, you look nice, too.”

Guinevere blushed, her eyes leaving Alistair to intake Cullen. He wore the same pink button-up he had during their first blind date. Slimming black slacks, and a thin black tie. The man was currently blushing, as he pushed a decorated brown bag of apples at her. Rolling a plastic cone of grocery store flowers behind them. He stammered further, babbling about the organic apples and his late running shift. To distract him from further rumbling, she gently tugged on his tie silencing his words.

“Cullen, thank you. But I have something for you too, give me your hand.”

“My hand?”

With a small frown from Guinevere, he obeyed offering out his right hand. Watching her produce a small box, watching curiously as she opened it. 

“These are cufflinks, nothing too special I am afraid.” Guinevere pried apart the gold bases, snapping the pieces back together at the bottom side of his wrist. Motioning for his other wrist as that arm was dropped and repeated the motion. He didn't have time to inspect his new accessory, as the teacher called for the classes attention. Alistair excluded, as he fingered a gold rose. 

They were each issued a plate of cheeses to snack on, and wine served around the room in a rotation. The students making suggesting what cheeses would pair well with the wine they provided. Cullen shuffled beside her as he inspected the cufflinks. Noting the inward sparkle, and clarity of the amber gem. Shortly after each couple was presented with dough, and instructed to knead it. Guinevere started, as Cullen still seemed a little distracted.

Cullen watched Alistair cozy up behind Amelia, a hand running appreciatively up the back of her skirts. They were in the back of the class, so they had little to worry about. His eyes flickered to Guinevere, in a black dotted and darker pink skater dress with a shiny black belt. Black boots raising up just above her knees, leaving a hand's width of open skin. A calloused hand flirted with the idea of caressing the skin but thought better of it. Listening to Amelia giggling, as Alistair folded the dough with the help of her hands. Flirting much more suavely than Cullen could imagine replicating, or performing. 

Not to be outdone, he thought of his own approach. He couldn't simply mimic Alistair, so he went for the next best course of action... sliding his arms under Guinevere's. She paused after just a few awkward movements, removing her arm, just to slip it under his much roomier arm. Pulling him in closer with a bend of her arm. She seemed happy enough with this, the two quickly resorting to a game of who could touch the other's hand more slyly. Rather than kneading the dough. 

His eyes again wandered to his friend, watching in further envy as Alistair fed his lady. Without thinking of the dough on his fingers (Alistair's were clean, because never directly touching the dough) snapped up a white cube of cheese. Offering it to his lady.

“Cullen, I would love too. But I don't think eating raw dough is okay.”

The instructor overhearing this tutted and made Cullen go even redder. Pulling from Guinevere entirely, letting her roll the dough into something resembling a bread-stick. But he did rejoin her efforts with coating the dough with a mixture he couldn't identify and took the job of placing the bread in the oven. Upon returning, he found the stove top on the bench before them fired up. Guinevere juggling with filling a larger pot with water, and cooking the chicken in the next. Cullen took the pot of water from her attention, placing in the already somewhat soft noodles. His attention finally returned to Guinevere, her gaze flickering between the wine glass and chicken. She resigned to pushing the meat with the wooden spoon. 

Sweeping up the flute, Cullen tipped it toward her lips. Succeeding in this effort, finally. 

Somewhere between their idle chatter, his hand found her opposite hip. Leaving one hand open to help her in adding the ingredients, leaving her hip only to strain the large pot noodles. Blushing as she complimented his strength, swearing he felt her hand ghost over his backside.

With the tables cleaned, and food cooked the meal was ready. Guinevere laughed at the pathetic state of their breadsticks. Cullen only looked in mild disgust at the heart shaped ones Alistair and Amelia had made. Now they were kissing over their plate passionately. 

Being brought back to reality by Guinevere's nudge, he dug in. Pretty satisfied with the meal they had managed to make. The bread-sticks left something to be wished for, but it wasn't important to the meal. The Alfredo was wonderful, and chicken cooked to perfection. He continued to eat it long after Guinevere had finished picking at it. Her hands distracted by her glass of wine, picking a cube of cheese that was said to pair well with it. By the look of confusion on her face, she didn't get the novelty. Unlike Alistair who had polished off his plate, and was now begging for theirs. With Cullen's approval, their plate was shortly devoured. 

Guinevere leaned into Cullen, sighing softly.

“I don't have anything else planned for us afterward, but if you would-.”

“Please, tell me you are inviting me to your place.”

Gwen grinned, “I am. Sera is gone, and I know those two need to be alone.”

Cullen moved in closer, whispering, “I know, he was pestering me all day...he even tried to get me to- Nevermind.”

Guinevere chuckled, “You got questioned too?”

“Maker's Breath, don't get me started!”

“Heeeeey, Cullen.” Alistair interrupted, receiving questioning looks from the other table.

“Alistair?”

“What are you two whispering about?”

“Well, he won't be home for a while tonight. We were finalizing the rest of our plans.”

“Ahh,” Alistair muttered, the tip of his ears turning redder, “Sounds good!”

Guinevere followed that with a wink, driving the two of them to blush wildly all over again. Turing as red as the strawberries served as dessert. Alistiar returned his dotting attention on Amelia. Guinevere ignored it while Cullen found it both measures disgusting and amusing. A twitch of jealousy the cherry on top, as he could not find any words to compliment Guinevere in such a lavish language. Or say much of anything, other than to listen to her attempts at conversation. 

The couples split up, each their own way. Guinevere hoped into his car. Prompting him to first run to a liquor store so they would have something fancier to drink. The wine had not been enough, and she wished for Cullen to show her the drink he had procured for their last date. So a few bottles later, they found themselves in Guinevere's empty apartment. 

“Would you- can I?” Cullen stumbled at his words, stopping Guinevere from fully removing her boots.

“Yes?” Guinevere prompted, lightly tugging at his tie. Biting into the flesh of her lip.

An invitation or not, Cullen took it. Plunging his lips into her lips, quickly seeking entrance with his tongue. A soft moan into his mouth just prompted his passion, pressing and lifting her into the nearest wall. Hips seeking to collide with her warmth. Threading his fingers through the fine waves of red hair, his other hand lifting her rump. Kneading into the soft, but firm flesh. Small, delicate hands weaved, and rubbed the base of his skull. Her core bucking against him, drawing out a deep groan. His lips released her mouth, hot breath huffed against her neck. He couldn't continue this further, not tonight.

But his grip did not relax, his other arm joined underneath her rump. Transporting the lady in short order to the couch, gently settling her down. Leaning back on his haunches so that he could capture her legs. Fingers slowly walking up the side of her left leg. Toying with the small zipper, honey eyes keeping eye contact as he removed the boots. Rough fingers grazing the smooth skin revealed beneath the fabric.

“I quite like this Cullen,” Guinevere murmured, settling back against the pillows. 

“I'm glad,” he rumbled.

The pattern repeated with the next boot, her skin bumping before his touch could set it alight. But his final move was different, lifting her knee to his lips. Peppering kisses until his mouth reached the tip of her toe. His kisses gained silence from Guinevere, who sat in reverence. Repeating this for the other leg. Placing both knees together at his side, fingers working at the pads of her feet.

“Thank you, for tonight.”

“What do you mean?” Tracing slow circles on her heels.

“I had fun.”

He didn't answer but smiled softly. He was content in the silence, where she was not.

“What do you want to do now?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I want to know everything about you.”

“That's a bit, hard.” Eyebrows scrunching together, as his hands paused for a moment.

“Do you want to play twenty questions? We can each take a drink for each question! So it isn't completely boring!”

“As you wish,” he said with an amused smile.

Guinevere opened the first wine bottle, taking a swig. “Who was the first girl you kissed?”

Cullen shot a questioning glance, “Playing dirty already? Fine, Isabelle. I was twelve. My turn.” Taking the bottle from her grasp. “What kind of gem is in these cufflinks?”

It was a lame question, but one Guinevere was fine with answering. But not without a wild blush.

“Amber, they remind me of you.” She admitted, taking the bottle once he had taken a swig.“Who was your first girlfriend?” 

“Isabelle, though she broke up with me two days after we kissed. I was so heartbroken,” carefully placing in sarcasm, “How do they remind you of me?”

“Your eyes. They match, it was stupid I know.” 

Guinevere received the bottle after Cullen kissed her.  The answer was extremely satisfactory. 

\- - - - - -

Two bottles down the drain and another game of twenty questions later Guinevere was already feeling light headed. “So, what did Alistair try to get you to do?”

Cullen shook his head, “I need two drink-fs before I can answer that question,” taking the two shots as mentioned, “he wanted me to check his...personal grooming. Of course I refused, we're bros...but not like that.”

Guinevere laughed loudly, covering her mouth with her hand.

“So my question, again. Hmmm, what is your favorite color?”

“White!” her next question brought her pause, “tell me, uh, something you've never told anyone else.”

“So, there is this girl- That I really, really like. I think she might like me too!” Cullen said in-between his chuckling, delighting at the off put face Guinevere was making at him. 

“Cheater, and here I thought we were getting through to one another!” crying out in mock offense.

“An answer, is an answer. You will need to be more specific. I'll demonstrate: tell me one of your deep dark secrets.” 

Guinevere thought hard, she wasn't free from guilt. But most of the things she had done in her life were pretty tame. Nothing to quite qualify as deep, and dark. On a whirling brain, nothing came as a solid answer. 

“Nothing, I am absolutely pure!” Guinevere declared.

“Nothing? Or are you hiding something, Ms. Allen?”

“No, of course not. My life has been a boring, and quite tedious affair. Are not satisfied with that answer, Mr. Rutherford?” 

“No, I am not.” His thumb caressing her cheek. Pulling the woman forward, unable to fight the craving for her lips a moment longer. Something about 'Mr. Rutherford' lit a fire within, perhaps the way her lips moved or the promise of something more each time she said it. Closer to her being something more. The sass usually accompanying such a title was only a benefit, pooling and surfacing his desire in a few mere syllables. The kiss ended before could think of turning into more.

“That's two drinks, for us both,” Guinevere whispered, being the first to partake, “can I ask you something, serious?”

“You may.”

“How serious do you think Cassandra is when she says something if bad?” If was completely off topic, but curiosity and a sudden idea had dawned on her. An idea that a small voice said to ignore.

“She thinks dresses and anything with pink is the Dread Wolf itself. Though, I don't know her to be a person that minds the bluntness of any situation.”

“That bad? Would you mind a favor, favor now?” Guinevere asked shyly. It wasn't the place, but she fought that feeling. She was buzzed and feeling on top of the world. Not much could bring her down.

“What's that?”

“I want to know what is in that file. It can't be that bad.”

“You sure?”

“I'm sure, I trust you. It's probably just Cassandra exaggerating, right?”

\- - - - - -

Guinevere twirled back across the living room, prancing as she brought along the yellow folder. Cullen couldn't help but laugh at her antics, his laughter growing louder as she sung about learning about her dead parents. At least, she was taking it well, she had promised that much. Unfolding a story that was rather believable, and it did makes sense. Guinevere had lost them years ago and dealt with that years ago.

Out of precaution, she opened the last bottle of wine and took a long chug. Assuring her own nerves that she could handle the news.  With fumbling fingers, her fingernails pried at the bronze tabs opening the envelope.   
   
Inside the envelope was a case file, with numbers and stamped with the word classified in big red letters. “This feels like the scene out of a drama, a worn out cop reading the file on the murder of his slain wife-” Guinevere stammered, “when he sees something he mi-.”

“Guinevere?” quickly concerned over her paused.

His answer was a smile, “My real last name is Trevelyan.”

“Like that rich family in Ostwick?”

  
“The same,” shemanaged to push out. Her hand gracing something within her file, only the scantest look of confusion road her features. “I'm from Ostwick.” The words a vain hope. 

Her gaze continued across the next page, slowing flipping to the next page as finished reading the first. Cullen noticed her eyebrows angling, as the contents of the next page must have been more sullen. A stray tear rolling down her cheek. Fingers once again stroking the pages, “It's my parents, Alexander and Allena Trevelyan. Oh! And I have three brothers!”

Cullen offered a soft smile, letting her continue. Watching as her expression turned completely solemn on the next page, her prediction had come true. Flipping slowly through a few paper clipped pictures, another silent tear joined the first. Guinevere apologized unnecessarily.

He watched as her face drained of color, blue-green eyes following in their dullness. Her grip turned white against the file, a solitary shake, then complete silence. Lips parted. The first minute was allowed to tick by, but she remained in place only the quiver of her lips betrayed her breathing. Cullen worried, reaching for her face.

What he did not expect was her recoil, propelling her back painfully into the back of the couch.  The papers scattered from the file, pictures and documents haphazardly landed on the floor. As suddenly as her back crashed against the backboard, she sprung forward placing herself over the mess of papers. The small frame racking with tremors but the scowl did not last long. Her eyes turning away in shame.

“Guinevere? Please, let me help.”

“Then you'll leave.”

“What's wrong?”

Visibly the words caught in her throat, catching between the cry and silence she wanted to keep. Cullen crashed to his knees pulling her voluntarily, or not, into his grip. Her fists balled pathetically into his shirt, melting against his strength. “What's wrong? Can I help?” 

“You can look,” her voice cracking.

“I won't unless you want me to. I promise I will not ask either.”

“No, you should know. Now, before you-” her words stopped, turning into a soft sob. 

His grip tightened, gently lifting her body to the couch. Leaving her alone only long enough to gather the papers, to say he hadn't caught glimpses of the pictures was a lie. One stood out among the others the upturned photos fresh burn marks peppering the hip of an obviously young female. Ones matching the marks he had only caught a glimpse of on Guinevere's matching hip. The rest of the papers and picturesgathered quickly, fearing to leave her alone too long.

He took his place on the couch, allowing Guinevere to retreat into the corner as far as she could manage. 

The first page was a newspaper clipping, the article headline read “A Murder and Kidnapping.” He wasn't interested in the article, placing it on the coffee table so it could be organized later. Honey eyes wandering to the female who hung despondently on the arm of the couch. Unable to watch him read the file. His gaze returned, gulping as the medical evaluation painted a clearer picture. The body had an outline of a female child, areas of injury to the body were circled attached to an arrow that lead to a brief explanation of the injury. The basic condition of her health was jotted down beside the picture listing lack of sleep, dehydration, minor to severe bruising, and listlessness. Her hip was circled, explaining the burns marks likely caused by cigarettes being extinguished on her hip. At the time of the evaluation, it was recent. 

The last one circled the reproductive organs: tearing and bleeding in both orifices. Long term injury had been sustained. His blood boiled, in a sharp contrast to the cold shocks so common with his own disorder. His hand quivered as he carefully set down the file, he had read enough.

“What do you remember?”

“Flashes, nothing more,” her voice gained in pitch, “I'm sorry for freaking out, at least, I don't remember it, the file says I might not. I hope not. It's disgusting.”

“I hope you don't mean yourself,” daring to close an inch of space between them.

Her empty eyes stared at hi,, then dropped again.

“Let me- Could I stay with you?” It was imposing, but he felt the desire to protect. To hold her close.

“Would you?” 

“I would. You shouldn't be alone tonight, what do you need?


End file.
